


Tales of a Witch, Dwarves, and a Meddling Wizard

by Sinammon



Series: Weave of Magic [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 'Cause I just suck, A twist of the unexpected journey, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Bilbo, Bilbo Is Awesome, But they are too hot and too adorable to die, Dori can beg to differ, Durin's were born to die, Durincest, Dwalin is just Dwalin, Elves are complete assholes, Everyone loves Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli Are Little Shits, Gandalf is a meddling wizard, Grammar/Spelling error WARNING, M/M, Ori is a lovesick fool, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin Oakenshield is a constipated idiot, Thranduil to, What did I just write?, Witch!Bilbo, bamf everyone basically, but he's too hot to kill off, except Rivendell Elves, except Smaug, he has to die, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinammon/pseuds/Sinammon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh yes, taking a Hobbit with a lick of magic is certainly a good thing to do. Sometimes, Bilbo just wants to compress himself against his bed and relax in his isolated home; nope, Gandalf the Grey does not understand the word 'NO!' Now, the hobbit finds himself in the company of vexing dwarrows who tasked themselves with a suicide mission towards a desolated mountain, sans the dragon that currently lays beneath the gold. </p><p>Maybe the Hobbit could find himself in the rightful hands after all, if only they knew how to care for themselves and stop treating him like the damsel in distress they describe him as; heroism could bite the hobbit in the butt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First fic! It is going to be a horrible road to follow, you perfection grammar-ists! Although, criticism is good at this point. I hate studying and I hate cramming in grammar fortifications. My brain is too abused for this!
> 
> If you have any suggestions leave it in the comments below! I am open to more story plots and one-shots, and even a suggestion to the next segment of this story that I horribly created!
> 
> I'm a noob at this, so I can't figure out how the hell I make do of un-completing this story. Noob alert. Sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A witch lies within the Shire and a meddling wizard arrives, adventure and dwarves in toe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brushed up on a prologue that I was working on and totally forgot about, so here it is! 
> 
> So I edited everything and rewrote the first two chapters of the Tales. I also took the liberty of posting 2 more chapters due to this update.

 

> _“All that is gold does not glitter,_
> 
> _Not all those who wander are lost;_
> 
> _The old that is strong does not wither,_
> 
> _Deep roots are not reached by the frost._
> 
> _From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_
> 
> _A light from the shadows will spring;_
> 
> _Renewed shall be blade that was broken._
> 
> _The crownless again shall be king.”_
> 
> –J.R.R Tolkien

Snow has come, the Brandywine River froze, and the Horn-call of Buckland blasted with strength throughout the Shire.

 The Hobbits all flee to their homes, food ran short, and this once peaceful land had been refined with blood tainting the roads of Hobbiton. With the defense of the Rangers of the North and the copious rations coming from Gandalf the Grey, the Hobbits were once safe. That is, until Belladonna Took walked out of her smial, without her child.

The Rangers of the North had to relocate the Hobbits of Bag-End to Buckland. Belladonna, Bungo, and a fauntling named Bilbo was one of them. Tragedy strike true. Bungo Baggins soon fell with an onslaught of wolves. With a determined face no matter her husband’s death, Belladonna continued. Her heart broke, shattered into two, while she watches her husband be tussled and ripped apart by wolves, oh how the rush of magic never felt so good. Bilbo, with a distraught gleam in his eyes, grabbed his mother’s hand and advanced on, occasionally looking back at the blood his father had poured out.

The Brandyhall was a mess, when Belladonna and Bilbo arrived with the remaining Hobbits. Bodies of both Rangers and Hobbits piled against a wooden crate, some even left on the Brandywine River.

With that, the Ranger, whom rendered useless when trying to save Bungo, led them inside the safest (deemed to be safe, he says) place they could find.

~

Belladonna had not wanted to enter the hall, she wanted to go find the remaining hobbits and avenge her husband’s death! Those blasted creatures may have taken her husband, but she will defend and avenge it so it will not take her child with them in their snarling teeth,

Therefore, Belladonna decided not to enter the Hall.

‘Mother?’ Bilbo’s voice, oh her child’s voice. Sweet, with a twist of innocence, his voice is. However, she was determined and, with a streak of a pure Took, she was stubborn and set on going to avenge her family. Even it means the death of her.

She looked back at her child and smiled, mouthing,

 ‘I love you.’

With that, she left.

 She left her child with the other hobbit’s and the Ranger, pleading for his safety in the Brandyhall. Her face determined and her magic burning within her body, wanting release. She was set to avenge, and vengeance she shall bring ten-folds to the wolves who had the audacity to kill her husband.

However, her heart broke to find out that she made her child cry. Her once brave, courageous Bilbo finding the elves, attracting mud onto Bungo’s wooden floor, and the laugh she would not forget whenever she twisted a tale of the meddling wizard and his taste for pipeweed. Now her fauntling practically screams for her, wept for her to come back to the safety of the Brandyhall. Nevertheless, she could not, she did not want to fade, nor did she want to confine burdens onto her child if this winter passed. She moved passed the Brandywine River, tuning out the cries of her broken child. Her dress wavering with the wind and the cold, death-bringing winter upon her, she brushed the snow from her face and made her way towards Hobbiton.

Then she noticed the cry of her child ceased.

~

Bilbo could not stand here and render useless, he will not! Therefore, he did what any other duckling would do.

Bilbo followed his mother.

Well, not physically his mother, but her trail; he followed her trail.

 He was a fauntling who wrecked the Farmer Gopher’s farm and followed trails of even the Elves unnoticed. In addition, he has a whiff of magic on his side. His mother was not one to cover her trail, so it was easy to follow, just follow whatever was left at the Brandyhall and advance on until it ends.

 ‘ _Braver than a Took and a Brandybuck combined, dare I say,’_ Gandalf once said at the Old Took’s birthday. Belladonna huffed a sigh at that, but pulled an ever-gleaming smile, and Bilbo had pride once for becoming more of a Took sometimes than a Baggins (much to Bungo’s differentiating opinions of the situation). However, in this dire need of survival, he was not so sure that being Tookish would help-

A wolf entered Bilbo’s peripheral and it looked feral.

Bilbo’s eyes widened at this and he raised his hand to defend himself, pleading for his magic to release- but Belladonna Took, his mother, took advantage of that. She sent the wolf down to the ground with a telekinetic shield that rendered the wolf’s cries nor struggle useless. After, she forced the wolf with an anguish cry as all her magic begins to deplete, to the nearest smial that struck the wolf true, impaling the sharp point of a lantern one of the Brandybuck has pressing against the hound’s hide and soon embracing it in a bloody mess. The body of the hound twitched one last time and the blood dripped down the lantern, the hound was dead. Belladonna soon fell to the ground with a sigh of relief of her faunt’s safety. Bilbo hurried to his mother, his magic humming within him.

‘Mother, no!’ Bilbo muttered against his mother’s nape. He did not want to lose the last fragment of family he ever held, ever since his father’s bereavement. Belladonna smiled weakly at her faunt’s courage and spell casting, he was going to be a good witch. He will be. ‘No, no, no, no do not leave me mother! Do not leave me…’

‘Brave to a fault, you are, my courageous Bilbo.’ She placed her weak hands and stroked the wet tears Bilbo released away. With an anguish scream, Bilbo hugged his mother lovingly, taking note of the grey figure walking towards them. ‘Don’t need to fret. One must be brave enough to die than to live, my dear.’ Bilbo’s body winced at that. His mother always used to talk about life and grandiose adventures she had with the meddling wizard. She always had a couple of stories weaved with every action, every word she emits from that lovely speech-crafted mouth of hers; never once has she told Bilbo that dying is a good thing, especially when she told him to live life to the fullest. Neither had she lived her life with him, never had she lived her life to the fullest with him! Why is the Valar picking on this family, why is the Valar picking on _his_ family? Hadn’t they had enough with the other hobbits?

With a hand on the faunt’s shoulder, while Belladonna Took parted with her final breath, Gandalf the Grey winced and said a little prayer, something about Yavanna’s pastures and whatnot, but Bilbo paid no heed; he was too busy grieving for his mother’s death. His warm touch clashed with his mother’s cold ones, reaching out for her warmth one last time. However, he knew it ceased to exist.

With one last whimper, one last cry, he let go of his mother’s body. The wizard gestured back towards the Brandyhall and Bilbo followed.

‘I love you, mama.’ He says not too long after the wizard led him back to the Brandyhall, not too long after the wolves came back to devour Belladonna’s corpse.

~

Soon enough, the Fell-Winter passed Middle-Earth and the Shire was once again peaceful! The Tooks and their bright personality soon found the will of adventure once again. The Brandybuck’s lust for the water and boating in the Brandywine River found its way in once the winter passed. The Baggins found their will to become the respectability line of Hobbit’s in the Shire once again.

Now, the hobbit’s shudder whenever one mentions the Fell-Winter. However, never has the memory of it ever came to them only the fact that food was blocked.

However, one hobbit, one particular hobbit remembered. Lying in the smial his father left for him, on the bed his mother once laid upon, and the locket they both left for him once he came of age, he remembered. The day his mother went out of the comforts of the Brandyhall, and when his father’s blood poured out as he was being devoured by the White Wolves of the Old Forest. When his mother died saving him, rendering himself useless.

He remembered, and he will always remember. He will remember the day he was useless, useless to save even his father. If he was what he is today, knowledgeable, then his father might- just might have survived and his mother would not have a reason to avenge her family.

Then he would be happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticism is fruitful and appreciated, Comments are as well!
> 
> Suggestions are suggested and taken into consideration, flames are there to be extinguished!


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which memories are memories and meddling wizards does not know how to keep their noses out of a certain hobbit's affairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: 
> 
> This is an edit to chapter 1!

 

 

 

 

> _"Little by little, one travels far."_
> 
> _-J.R.R. Tolkien_

It all started in a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Now, hobbits are not ferocious as dwarrows, nor elegant like the elves. No, they were simple-folk, they needed comfort. A warm hearth and hearty meal always does the trick. The Shire, once it reclaimed to its peaceful glory, ever the peaceful land had homed these big-footed creatures and none ever went past far from Bree.

In this very hole lived a more isolated hobbit. Never once had he ever left the comforts of his smial, nor went outside to view his garden in the upcoming spring. No, he stayed inside and closed himself out from the other hobbits. Even his Tookish cousins were eager for him to come out, attempting to lure him out only to have a smack to the head by a Hamfast Gamgee. Hobbits who walked pass the smial said that the hobbit whom inhabits the grandiose smial had a taste of magic! Well, that was true.

Belladonna Took always had a rather strange background. She was said to have a taste of magic as well, always setting the hearth on fire with a flick of her fingers and knowledge of healing that could surpass an elf! Some say she was a witch, which was true; she was once, until her death in the Fell-Winter came. Her knowledge, now, had overcome her son. Bilbo Baggins was his name, and the isolated hobbit that resides in Bag-End.

Bungo Baggins, Bilbo’s father, had twice or few opinions about the use of magic in the house. However, Bilbo paid no heed to it. Fire was always a witch’s friend and he seemed quite fond of it. Once he almost set his whole garden aflame from an accidental oil spill! Hamfast had to be the one to repair the garden to its former glory, but with a few renovation for some herb growing for Bilbo himself. The Gardener was always fond of his boss, never once had he found him mysterious or witch-like, he found him as someone who holds too many memories for his own good.

Currently, the said gardener was arguing with an affronted Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“Lobelia, it is considered rude for someone such as yourself to invite themselves into another’s smial!” Hamfast said with a lick of annoyance. Lobelia was always the hypocritical one, respectable she was, hah!

“It was supposed to be mines in the first place, not that Bilbo Baggins!”

“Well, you do not hold the deed to the smial now do ya?” Hamfast retorted. Lobelia gave a huff of annoyance and defeat.

“Gamgee’s…” Lobelia muttered incredulously. “Well, no matter I will get that deed and you would not dare affront me you, you sorry Gamgee!” With that, the pushy Bracegirdle left with a twirl of grace and an arm flailing in defeat. Hamfast sighed at that. Dealing with Lobelia is like dealing with a dog, no matter how many times you tell them they would still recur. After that whole ordeal, Hamfast knocked on his boss’ door.

“Mister Bilbo, sir! I am here for daily services!” He heard an ‘Ah!’ coming from the entrance hall of the smial Hamfast loved working for, with that a lovely hobbit came forth, the door opening with him. Lovely is an understatement, this hobbit was pure beauty! His wavy honey-golden locks shine in the sunlight, his hazel-green tinted eyes always seems to pierce Hamfast’s married heart. Although, Hamfast worried about this hobbit’s health, the plump of the stomach was always something a Baggins should have. Bilbo did not.

“Good Morning, Hamfast.” Sickly sweet this hobbit was. It was all a façade though Hamfast concurred, the fake smile that Bilbo adorned no matter how it compliments his face, was fake nonetheless. “You could always go around back. It is not much of a crime to do so; I did give you the key to it…” which was true. In Hamfast's right pocket, the key sat there, waiting to be used.

“I always wanted to say good mornin’ to ya, Mister Bilbo!” Hamfast said with a jolly tone and a lovely, friendly bow. Bilbo chuckled softly before revealing his hands to Hamfast. Biscuits, Hamfast thought delightfully. 

“Here have this, baked it fresh this morning.” Bilbo said, “Now off with you, my garden doesn’t grow itself!” Hamfast chuckled. No matter what the other hobbits says this particular hobbit was always the respectable one. The one he could call a true friend.

~

Hamfast was always the worrisome one, Bilbo said to himself. Loyal to a fault Gamgee’s were, especially Hamfast Gamgee. His one true friend, he is. However, Hamfast was always the curious hobbit. Always having to hang around his Tookish cousins when they were faunts may have stroke that chord an octave or two. Hamfast always asks if he is eating full seven-meals a day, healthy for a hobbit he commenced! However, Bilbo could not find the stomach nor the appetite to follow about hobbit traditions ever since the effect of the Fell-Winter.

The Fell-Winter was always a touchy subject to other hobbits and especially towards Bilbo Baggins. His family, aside from those of both his Baggins and Took cousins, uncles, and aunties, his parents died during the plight of the Fell-Winter. Wolves surrounded the Shire as if it was their hunting ground, attacking weary hobbits or unaware Rangers entangled in the crossfire. Bilbo could almost hear the snarl of the wolves whenever he ventured toward his bedroom that is why he padlocked it and closed it off from existence.

He would always feel the guilt travelling in his very veins whenever he thinks of his mother and father. The wolves were as sharp as a thimble and nimble, and one wrong move sent an onslaught. Flashes of his father deluged the poor hobbit’s head. His father’s guts spilled all over the snow, blood following toe, wolves devouring his flesh. It was disgusting.

Then  there was his mother, she did not follow him to Brandyhall and everything went to hell then. He put up his Tookish streak and followed his mother, foolishly forgetting to check his surroundings. A wolf strikes true at Bilbo until a force of a mother’s will sent the wolf down to the ground with an excruciating force. His mother saved him, and in return, she died. After dealing with the hound, Belladonna laid on the cold ground, close to her own touch Bilbo concurred, with a few breaths she could muster up to say to Bilbo:

‘One must be brave enough to die than to live, my dear.’ With that final quote he always stuck with, she exhaled her final breath. Gandalf, the wizard, came and comforted Bilbo until they reached to the safety of the Brandyhall, with a final goodbye to his mother afterwards. Nonetheless, the wolves came and devoured his mother’s corpse until it was bones. Bilbo cringed at the thought but Gandalf kept pressuring him to keep moving.

With a sigh, Bilbo went up to the parlor to fend a fish to eat. He was getting quite puckish and tempted himself with a light meal. He missed breakfast, so it was problematic. He promised himself he wouldn’t let the Fell-Winter corrupt his mind and let him starve himself to death, he feared his mother would rise up from the grave and smack him across the face exclaiming, ‘Stop it!’ with that Tookish glare she musters up at him whenever he attracted mud.

Bilbo was a nice hobbit indeed, and today is probably going to be the most unexpected ones he has ever experience yet.

~

“Gandalf, what a sight for sore eyes,” Bilbo said with an expected gleam in his eyes. Many hobbits warn others about a bad omen coming across the Shire with adventure in toe. Gandalf took its form. He only had to open the door to a knock that kept insisting until Bilbo answered. Therefore, Bilbo answered to have caught sight of a grey robed wizard in front of him, “Good morning.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo raised his eyebrows at that. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that it is a good morning to be good on, hm?”

Inexplicable the wizard was, indeed.

“It is quite self-explanatory, Gandalf. It simply means, what brings Gandalf on this fine morning?”

Ever the wizard that he remembered, he would smirk amusedly and chuckle with words of wisdom behind his throat.

The cheeky wizard did just that.

“May the Valar ever shine on this day; I fear that you would not remember me!” Bilbo swathed a hand on his hips before looking up at the wizard. How could he forget? Gandalf was the one who comforted him until the end of the Fell-Winter.

“How could I forget? My mother and father’s death wouldn’t have been avenged if it wasn’t for your wits and combat.” Bilbo said, “And of course, your rendition of fireworks at the Old Took’s birthday party!” Gandalf chuckled and coughed ever so slightly.

“Does your mind still plague with the memories of the Fell-Winter?”

“Indeed it does, but it doesn’t stop me from being a hobbit, thank you very much.” Bilbo answered with sass. Gandalf smirked amusedly and rubbed his hands against Bilbo’s honey curls. “Come in for tea, I got some set up. However, I only expected Hamfast not a meddling wizard.” Bilbo ‘tsked’ at that.

Gandalf placed his hands at the top of his staff and leaned closely, doffing his hat as well. “My dear Bilbo, I could not fester to indulge in your elevenses with Hamfast. I am only here for one very good reason.”

“Reasoning is never a word a wizard should use, it is considered blasphemy.” Bilbo snipped.

“Well I never—“

“I do know you never reason, remember the time in Brandyhall? You practically forced the Rangers to protect me.” The fret the wizard came upon made Bilbo chuckle. Maybe he should hire an artist; the wizard’s face is most amusing.

“Indeed, but safety is taken with precaution. One cannot be sure of a wolf’s nimble movement.”

“Indeed, it doesn’t.” Bilbo agreed with distaste. Really, could the wizard ever be confusing? “Well, out with it. Why are you here Gandalf? Moreover, it had better not be any of your riddling words that might bring a dragon to my smial.”

“None of those embellishing words of my riddle-y tongue. However, I come to think that one must muster up the courage to face a dragon. No, but I am looking for one who would share an adventure with me.” There it is, the key word: Adventure. Adventure throughout the Shire is considered unexpected, or rather Tookish. Tooks were well known to share adventures, especially one that is considered Bilbo’s mother. Belladonna Took always weaved tales of adventures with Gandalf the Grey, the expedition of elves soon began once the Tale of Rivendell weaved. However, he would lose the deed to the smial to the closest resident on his Baggins side of the family.

The thought of handing the deed to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins made him shudder.

“Aha! Adventure, you are funny Gandalf. Adventures are uncomfortable, truly uncomfortable things! Makes you late for dinner,” Bilbo rambled. Gandalf did not mean to make him partake on an adventure, truly.

“Well, I never-” Gandalf muttered, “To think that I should live to be ‘Good morninged’ and sent on my way by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I were selling buttons at the door! You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.”

“You shall be Good Morninged whether you like it or not! You should know better than to bring an adventure to a hobbit’s door, they never pay heed to it! My mother—“

“Your mother wouldn’t want you to be cooped up in a smial, such as your father. Do you really want that?” Bilbo’s eyebrows twitched with impending anger.

“My mother would want me to be happy—“

“Happy outside of the Shire, Bilbo, and your father would have wanted you to stay but your mother wouldn’t want it on her worst enemy. She wanted you to explore, see the grand structures of the dwarrows and the city of the elves. Were you not the boy who went out to expedition in search of the elves or even the dwarves?” That was true, that was all true indeed. Bilbo was so blind with being a Baggins he forgot how he was a Took. However, this is a lot to deal with.

“You convinced me Gandalf. Why don’t we discuss this over dinner?” Bilbo said rubbing his temples with his index fingers. Gandalf smirked victoriously.

“Discussing this over dinner would be most appropriate. Seven sharp I shall come and meat pies I shall expect.”

“Then I shall expect you at seven and never later. I fear I might eat the meat pies in your absence.” Gandalf chuckled. Indeed, he would.

“Then I shall see you at seven. It will be very good for you... and most amusing for me.” Gandalf mutters the last part. Bilbo ignored it and closed the door to get started sorting out his pantry.

Unbeknownst to the hobbit, Gandalf has already begun his meddling; he rushed inside, through the gate and challenged the stairs with his age, he quickly rushed to the door and drew a blue rune with the tip of the end of his staff. With a huff of relief he scurried off. Hamfast, whom seen it all, watched with amusement as Gandalf trips over the tiny fence, complaining, 'Blasted tiny pieces of wood.' Hamfast chuckled and went back to gardening as Gandalf ran to the end of the trail.

~

This was the first time he ever entered his kitchen in a very long time, it looked untouched by the dust nor cobwebs. Memories of his mother baking those delicious cinnamon buns he loved. Then his father cooking delicious, crunchy strips of bacon that always satisfy his morning hunger. It was all lovely memories, so he picked the pan without much hesitation and challenged his culinary skills, as it was very weary after all the years of not cooking for himself.

 

 

> _“The Road goes ever on and on_
> 
> _Down from the door where it began._
> 
> _Now far ahead the Road has gone,_
> 
> _And I must follow, if I can,_
> 
> _Pursuing it with eager feet,_
> 
> _Until it joins some larger way_
> 
> _Where many paths and errands meet._
> 
> _And whither then? I cannot say.”_

He heard his mother sing this song every time she did the laundry. On a perfectly sunny day where Bilbo was off mucking about with his wooden sword and such, and his father helping mother hang the clothes. He would hear his mother hum a similar tune with some embellishments from her husband and both chorused a wonderful tune with Bilbo listening in with a gleeful smile.

Those were the memories he would never forget. The peace they all once had.

Time flew by rather quickly as he continued on singing the same song and dishes were made and placed accordingly on his dining table. It was nice, having guest over for dinner, especially when one of them was a dear friend.

Then there was a knock at the door. Expecting who it is to be, he walked closely and let the magic flow with ease, twisting the knob and opening the door.

Only to have a dwarf on the other side other than a wizard.

He blinked, trying to get his focus right. His eyes fixated on the dwarf’s glare, how rude!

“’Tis rude to stare, Halfling,” The dwarf muttered rudely before bowing to the floor, “Dwalin, at yer service.”

The hobbit was flabbergasted at the current situation; a dwarf is at his doorstep.”

“’Tis rude not to greet back when bein’ greeted, Halfling.”

Fix that, rude dwarf at his doorstep. With a side step and a grunt, Bilbo fixed his apron.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours I guess.” Bilbo greeted with a glare twitching to make an appearance. To the dwarf, it was like a squirrel twitching for a nut. “Is there not a wizard that I expected-“

The rude dwarf just bustled his way inside his smial and looked from left to right, following the scent of food. Regardless of the fact that he could follow the trail of freshly made food, the dwarf asked, “Where is it?”

Still regaining his wits, Bilbo asked, “Where is what?”

“Suppa’! He said there’d be lots of it!”

Didn’t take Bilbo long to put two and two together.

That confounded wizard.

“Curse that wizard to Mordor and Back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger, sorry. 
> 
> I meant to not do that, ever. However, I have a good reason.
> 
> I got lazy to write more :P. That is my reason :D!
> 
> <3 thank you all for the amazing support!


	3. Ventures through Bag-End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where commas are being abused, cutleries as well, and the occasional songs are sung.
> 
> Oh and Dwarrows are being introduced merrily with a bit of magic on the side for the occasional wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Chapter 2 
> 
> Chapter 3, officially, will be edited and posted tomorrow! Sorry <3

> _"Not all those who wander are lost."_ \--J.R.R. Tolkien

“Master Dwarf, could you please _elaborate_ on why the wizard sent you?”

This happened too fast, Bilbo thought. This was happening too fast indeed and with a stroke of a certain wizard’s meddling, it would seem rather expedited. He had to sit down for this all to synchronize into his brain. Why, why did Gandalf send a dwarf, of all races, to his doorstep? Could he not find a more subtle creature, a Man would suffice!

“I promised the wizard to not talk about our business ‘til he comes humpin on in here.” The dwarf said rather cheekily in Bilbo’s opinions. The dwarf himself was rather quizzical, but he seemed like a normal dwarf. Armor was a cast of iron garmented around with animal—believed to be—fur, a beard with plaited braids with the side burns entangled with that scruff, and two war axes strapped to his back with a leather buckle to adorn the decorum. He also had an ‘experience warrior’ face, scars, and all.

“Cheeky, well then sit in the parlor while we wait for the wizard.”

“I’m hungry!” The rude dwarf chortled in protest! He came here waiting for food so he is going to get food!

“Then help yourself to a cinnamon cookie or a scone, whatever sates your hunger, you impatient dwarf!” Bilbo retorted. Dwalin blinked and huffed in anger, he settled with the jar of cookies in his hand trying to grab a cookie. Which was rendered useless, his calloused hands were too big for the tiny opening. It was funny to watch a dwarf having a battle with a jar, and worst of the all, the jar was winning the fight.

“Cheeky Jar, this thing is!” Dwalin exclaimed angrily and raised the jar to smash on the ground.

“I would highly suggest you not to break my mother’s jar. I do not let cutlery such as that smashed by an uninvited lout such as yourself, so please, put that down.” Bilbo said, holding up a throng. “Might I suggest using this, you dwarrow do not have a lick of common sense.”

Dwalin huffed exasperatedly and grabbed the blasted throng, grabbing a cookie with it. The dwarf twitched and placed the throng down and settled with the cookie, angrily munching on it. The Halfling had a tongue to trifle with, especially with that glare of his. Seems that not all things are what Dwalin expected, at all.

Bilbo looked over at the dwarf and settled back down to the chair he occupied. This would be a long night indeed.

~

Not even ten minutes later, someone knocked on the door with vigor. Maybe it is another Dwalin, perhaps.

 

“That would be the door,” Dwalin sneered as he munches on his fifth cookie. Bilbo huffed and walked over to the door while snipping,

“I hope it is the door, you hairy lout, or else I am going crazy. Maybe I am, because there is a dwarf in my smial other than a wizard.” Bilbo ignored the glare directed his way.

It was again, another dwarf. However, this dwarf had a smile on his face and did not look like a glaring Dwalin.

“Good evening…” Bilbo greeted, the dwarf was looking at the evening—soon to be night—sky before looking at the hobbit with wizened eyes.

“Yes, yes it is.” The dwarf said in an ever-jolly tone, taken it laced itself with sarcasm. Ok, scratch that, he acted just like Dwalin, sarcasm and all.

“Balin, at yer service,” Balin bowed to the ground jolly, if that was even possible. “Am I late?” He asked with a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and a hardened gaze.

“Late for… for what, Master Dwarf?” Bilbo was confused. Then Balin went in without much consent of the hobbit’s question nor any consent to enter the smial. Although, he did appreciate the dwarf for taking off his boots, cloaks, and weapons near the door and into the pegs provided.

“Good evening, Brother!” So, this dwarf—erm, Balin—is brothers with Dwalin? With a smile from Dwalin and accidentally—intentionally—dropped the jar of cinnamon cookies to the ground, Bilbo rested his case, but with a glare to the burly dwarf. Well, that would seem so. They both had a nick of sarcasm and threatening auras.

“By my beard! You are shorter and wider last we met!” Dwalin exclaimed, Balin huffed looking affronted.

“Wider, not shorter… sharper enough for the both of us.”

The brothers embraced each other, which was sweet in Bilbo’s eyes. Until they got to the head-butts, looking at them almost made Bilbo have a headache. The head clashing almost sounded like stones grinding against one another, now came the theory that Dwarrows were stone-sensed- physical and mental wise. With a shake of his head, the hobbit looked down to the ground where Dwalin dropped his jar, luckily, it did not break, or else there will be one less dwarf in this house.

“Mister Dwalin, could you please pick up the cinnamon cookies from the ground, please?” Bilbo demanded before turning back, aware of the glare the dwarf directed his way. The hobbit walked towards the kitchen, guessing he had to make more food for who knows what may come next.

“Yes, ye fussy thing,” Bilbo rolled his eyes and Balin chuckled merrily, oh, he forgot the older dwarf was here.

“Mister Balin, is it possible if you could get some vegetables from the pantry? Minds as well make you two useful, in my benefit of course.”

“Pardon?”

“I believe you do not have an ear trumpet so you can hear perfectly fine.” Bilbo snipped and turned back towards Dwalin, who looks like he is having the time of his life, cheeky dwarf. “Am I expecting more of your troopers?”

“Aye, thirteen will be the number.” Dwalin said.

Wait, wait, thirteen?

“Thirteen… thirteen…” Bilbo rubbed at his temple, maybe fainting is the good course of action right now. He let out a sigh and ignored the burn of magic due to his temperament. “Then I expect you to get the door and, and greet your fellow companions.”

“Why me? You’re the host!” Dwalin protested. Bilbo gave a glare that made Dwalin shudder in fright, just a twinge.

“I am not going to greet thirteen dwarrows; I am going to the kitchen and cook for my sanity’s sake.” Balin chuckled at Bilbo, which made the said hobbit look at him with distaste. “Mister Balin is going to help you, as he is rendered useless and still haven’t gotten the vegetables out of my pantry. The older dwarf opened his mouth to protest but Bilbo beats him to it,

“And if you say something out of that wizened mouth of yours, I would make sure to refrain ever giving you dessert, you sarcastic heathen!”

With that, the hobbit went back to his pantry to scavenge out food he could cook for thirteen dwarrows. Thirteen dwarrows, Bilbo exclaimed in his head, oh how his father would turn in his grave.

~

Balin found this whole ordeal quite funny.

Not only was their host very sarcastic and very polite, he had the audacity in confronting Balin in his own political tongue. However, Balin could not pinpoint the suspicion the dwarf had in regards to the hobbit. There was almost magic-

Someone, or rather, someones were knocking on the door.

“Mister Dwalin!”

 The dwarf sounded angry, judging by the sounds of his feet clambering on the floor like a giant, and the thrust of his door hinge that he feared will break, that sorry lout.

“Fi—“The older one, Bilbo presumes.

“Ki—“With a higher pitch, Bilbo could only think this is the younger one.

“Mister Dwalin?” Two dwarrow—no, dwarflings, greeted the dwarf in unison. Dwalin gave a huff and reeled away from the door to let the two dwarflings in.

“Make them put their boots, coats, and weapons by the door.”

“I’m gettin’ to it ye fussy thing!”

“Have you finally been domesticated, eh Mister Dwalin?” One dwarfling sassed with a death wish on his head.

Bilbo heard a loud smack and a crash. The hobbit rolled his eyes and continued stirring.

“Domesticated for yah, eh?”’

“I yield, I yield, Mister Dwalin!” The admonished dwarfling said.

“Now, get in ‘ere before the fussy creature yells at me some more.” Dwalin sneered; Bilbo heard two sets of footsteps clambering in with armor clinking with every step.

“What did I just say, Mister Dwalin?”

“Ye fussy Halfling, I got it under control!”

“By the Green Lady you got it under control! I still hear an armory at my door and boots scraping on my floor!”

Laughs and merriment emitted from the dwarflings and the older dwarf, but a rather loud huff by Dwalin.

“Now get the dwarflings into the house, with proper etiquette—“rudely interrupted by two protesting dwarflings.

“We are not dwarflings! We are full grown dwarrows!”

“Yeah, we have already come of age!”

“Well, if you already have come of age, then you would know proper etiquette when coming to other people’s home.” Bilbo snipped before getting back to putting the pies into the oven. “But for now, you are merely dwarflings as you haven’t put your boots near the door with your weapons, and your cloaks onto the pegs provided.”

Dwalin chortled a laugh with his brother and the dwarflings soon joined their merriment. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the bipolarity of dwarrows. Just one nick at their pride they all go to strife, joke about it on the other hand, they all laugh in merriment. However, Bilbo was not joking in one bit. Then the laughing ceased and muffled footsteps stalked near the kitchen, where the hobbit resides.

Luckily, the hobbits have rather sharp ears. He heard the footsteps beforehand. Turning around he came nose to nose with the two aforementioned dwarflings.

“It is considered rude to disturb a cook while they are cooking.”

The dwarflings grinned but one eyed the blueberry scones. Bilbo quickly snatched his ladle and wacked the offending hand.

“Little heathens need a proper lesson of proper etiquette. Let us start with dinner; you wait until everyone gets a fair share of the food.” Bilbo snipped. The Golden haired one, Bilbo presumed to be the older of the two, pulled his hand quickly and rubbed at it with two widened eyes of astonishment.

The other dwarfling, the brown haired one, grinned widely.

“I like you, Master Hobbit!” The youngest one laughed and stepped back to his brother.

“Fili,” grumbled the scolded dwarf.

“And Kili!”

“At yer service,” the bow they both did amused Bilbo the most. With a smile adorning his face, Kili looked up at Bilbo with his chocolate eyes and says,

“You must be Mr. Boggins!”

Bilbo’s eyebrows twitched.

“Bilbo B _a_ ggins, at yours,” the hobbit says whist he stares at the brothers. “Is there a Boggins here?”

The brothers gave a heartily laugh, followed by Dwalin and Balin in the parlor. Bilbo amusedly grabbed his mittens and went to go take out the pies from the stove. He lifts up the pastries to the lustful gaze of the dwarrows.

“Can you set this up on the table? I trust Dwalin to do this, although, he seems rather reluctant to snip a pastry into his mouth.” Bilbo said, “Oh, and can you please set the table up. Oh merciful Green Lady, I do not want to slave for twelve more chairs.”

“Aye, aye, ye bossy for a host,” Dwalin muttered in between breaths. “Now come on, the sooner we get done the sooner we eat!”

“Aye, Mister Dwalin!” Fili said and scurried off to help with the tables. Kili, the underhanded brown haired brat, roughly embraced the hobbit before following his brother.

Bilbo wiped at his apron before going back to chopping up the carrots. He wants peace, tranquility, or maybe a soothing song right about now.

“Oi, watch it! Ye almost hit my head, you hairy lout!”

“Watch where your head is, ye idiot!”

Never mind, scratch the thought of ever having peace while dwarrows are here.

Bilbo eyed the carrots and started chopping viciously. If there were one spell, he would want to learn, it would be the spell to make everyone in his house disappear. That would be a rather fine solution. However, until then, the hobbit lets out a long-suffering sigh before going back to cooking when the arguing ceases and Dwalin moves everyone from the dining room to the parlor.

“Is the table set?”

“Aye, aye, the table is set.”

“Ok then, now we wait for your lot to come here.” Bilbo said, “And maybe a wizard that needs a little snipping.”

“Aye,” The dwarrows said in unison. Scared by the tone of Bilbo’s voice, Kili embraced Fili with a childish whimper.

~

The door knocked with anonymous chatter going on outside. Something about food and jewelry, but Bilbo could give a rat’s ass.

“Master Dwalin,” Bilbo gave a pointed look at the offended dwarf.

“You’re right there ye fussy creature, you certainly don’ need me at the door.”

“Because having an avalanche of dwarrows coming into my foyer is everlasting for a hobbit that is as small as your dwarrow friends!” Bilbo snipped with heaving amounts of sarcasm laced and buckled into it.

“Exactly,”

Now, dwarrows were dense creatures, Bilbo concluded with distress. They sometimes take sarcasm with a grain of salt, but never over their head. Therefore, with a will of magic, Bilbo let out a telekinetic force with a will strong enough to lift an oliphaunt. His strike was true as the dwarf pummeled against the door with a simple ‘oomph.’

“Get the door, Master Dwalin.”

Lost for words, Dwalin opened the door with a quick back-step while an avalanche of dwarrow came tumbling in.

“Fili, always remind me of this night whenever I decide to sass Mister Boggins.” Bilbo twitched at that, but examined the avalanche of dwarrows before catching eyes with a certain silvered wizard. Lights started to flicker with every step the witch takes, closer to the frowning wizard while the witch frightens the dwarrows. Bilbo looked back to Dwalin,

“Master Dwalin, please put all of your companions into the parlor. I have a bone to pick with a certain wizard.”

Gandalf may have underhanded a witch, so this witch will bring it right back, ten-folds. With a wave of his hands, Bilbo closed the door with a slam while he pushes back the wizard a good few inches away from him.

“You certainly have the bravery of a wizard, Gandalf the Grey. To invite Dwarrows into my home as if it was yours! What on Arda were you thinking, Dwarrows, Gandalf, Dwarrows? They are underhanded, stone-sensed creatures that will burn me at the stake for finding out what I am!” The whispers and hums of magic never felt so good against the wizard. With another blast of magic, Gandalf was on the ground, the hobbit peering over him.

“W-well, no I—“

“Of course you didn’t. You wizards don’t think at all, you do.”

“Now see here, Bilbo Baggins—“

“Gandalf, I will not be swayed in every direction possible to come on this adventure. You do know the dangers of having me around! They will not be swayed with every living thing with a lick of magic, nor the will of it, wizard.”

“Dwarrows may have that sense, but they are not all like that, Bilbo.” With a wave of the wizard’s wrist and the tint of blue on the wizard’s staff, the magic holding him severed. Gandalf huffed and pulled himself up, towering over the witch. “These Dwarrows in particular are different. They need all the help they can get over this overture.”

“And what exactly am I swindling into, Gandalf?” He needed answers and he is going to get them, even if he has to force the wizard, again. The magic pulse with every contained fury Bilbo held, Gandalf could feel but never heeded.

“Something that would be explains when all dwarrows are fed and present!” Gandalf raised his staff in delight as Bilbo seemed to have calmed down. With a sigh, Bilbo grabbed the wizard’s scarf with vigor.

“Please, please do not tell any of these dwarves that I am what I am, Gandalf.” Bilbo whispered desperately. Gandalf sighed and smiled in reassurance.

“You have my word.”

“Thank you Gandalf.”

“Anything for you, my boy,” Gandalf whispered before slamming his staff on Bilbo’s head.

“Oi! You confounded old codger. What was that for?”

“For chaining me with your magic,” Gandalf chuckled amusedly. Bilbo’s eyebrows twitched in amused anger. The wizard truly is an old, meddling lout.

“Now shall we enter in your demise, Bilbo?”

“We certainly shall, you old lout.”

~

There was only twelve in the house, twelve dwarrows.

“There are only twelve here, Gandalf.”

“I can see that,” Gandalf took note of the boots at the door. To Bilbo’s satisfaction, the cloaks pegged neatly, and the boots and weapons all placed against the wall near his mother’s muddy—

Wait… muddy glorybox?

“One word, Kili,” Gandalf chuckled, “You might have met the lad, troublemaker that one is. Even more so is his brother, Fili.” He added. Bilbo took note of that.

“Well, a certain dwarfling will have to scrape it up before he leaves my smial.”

“Indeed one does, Bilbo.”

“Shut it.”

Gandalf chuckled amusedly, once again.

~

“Aye, it is our host! Master Baggins, come an’ greet my fellow dwarrows!” Balin announced. Bilbo raised his eyebrows before following the regal dwarf into the fiasco of other dwarrow. Two dwarrows caught Balin’s sight, who noticed and nudged one another.

“Gloin, at yer service,” the red haired one said, nudging his brother once more.

“Eh? Oh! Oin, at yer service laddie!” This one was deaf, Bilbo noted. His ear trumpet slightly tilted in his ears with deft hands cloaked in a brandished glove.

“Bilbo, at yours,” Bilbo greeted politely. Oin patted Bilbo’s back and Gloin as well; Balin chuckled at the hobbit’s pained expression. Then three dwarrows joined the scene. One had a star shaped hairdo with a beard entangled in that mess, another had an aristocrat feel with plaited aged braids, and the other was a dwarfling, nervously securing his book on his hip.

“Nori, at yer service,” The star shaped dwarf said with his arms reeling in for a greeting. The older dwarf smacked Nori’s head before looking back at the hobbit.

“Sorry for my brother, Mister Hobbit. Dori, at your service.” ‘Dori’ gave a jovial bow and gave an expected look to the dwarfling next to him.

“Ah! O-Ori, at your service Mister Hobbit.” Ori had a sophisticated but nervous tone, surprised by the sudden upbringing of greetings. “I-I’m sorry, I’m just curious on what hobbits were.” Bilbo smiled at that.

“Curious you are?” Bilbo asked with a glint of amusement at the blush on Ori’s face.

“Aye, ever curious our young scribe is!” Balin said with the same amusement Bilbo held. Ori flustered, once again but with a more persimmon red to it. Then Dori decided to go and raid Bilbo’s pantry for tea, so they scurried off while Bilbo took note of Nori grabbing his mother’s candlesticks from the end table. “Nori there is a thief by craft, deft hands those are.”

“Aye, I have noticed my mother’s candlesticks have gone missing. I might have a proper greeting with Nori by then.” Balin chuckled at Bilbo’s sass.

“Aye, you will, soon enough.”

“Is there anymore to greet—“

“Ah, Bombur, Bifur, Bofur, over here lads!” Balin waved his hands for three dwarrows to come over. Bilbo noted that the three weren’t of royalty, not as the other five. These were miners, Bilbo thought, and one had an axe in his head—

Axe in his head, this dwarf had an _axe_ in his head!

“Bifur, <at your service, Hobbit!>” Bilbo thinks that is khuzdul, and is still staring at the axe in the poor dwarf’s head.

“Bofur, at yer service!” This one had one too many cupcakes, to have this much optimism, Bilbo didn’t think that was possible. However, he still eyed the axe in the dwarf’s head.

“Bombur, at yer service.” Bilbo had a brief glance at the other two dwarves. This one, whom greeted him, had red hair that matches Gloin’s with a braided beard that reached all the way to his rotund hips. Bofur has a funny hat with a funny moustache to finish the style he had going on. Bifur had an axe in his head with a black and white mane and intricate braids all over the place.

“Don’t worry laddie, the doctors said that he’ll live. Just without the axe in his head, he is long dead.” Bofur chirped, “Wouldn’t want that for my cousin.”

“Indeed you wouldn’t, not on my worst enemy.” Bilbo said with a smile, “Bilbo, at your services.” Moreover, the three all patted his back and went off to greet the other dwarrows in the parlor.

“There is still one more missing,”

“He is late is all. He traveled north to a meetin’ of our kin. He will come,” Dwalin says from where he stands in front of all the new Dwarrows standing in his parlor. Bilbo glanced at the dwarf and nodded in recognition, taking note that Gandalf has left his boots and staff near the door.

“Well, then hoping that you lot wouldn’t eat it all in regards to the late dwarf. I suggest you get started on feasting.” Bilbo said, “Unless you want to wait for the other dwarf, with a least bit consideration you guys could lick up.”

The Dwarrow protested and Gandalf glanced at Bilbo amusedly. The said hobbit rolled his eyes at the Dwarrows distress.

“Fine then, go, and get your food.”

With that, the Dwarrows all stood on their legs and headed straight to the dining area with delight. They all grabbed the plates provided, filled their cups with ale and their plates to the very brim, all while they converse merrily with one another.

“Oi, stop pushing you sorry lout.”

“I ain’t pushin, you pushin!”

Ok, scratch that.

Then the ancient Dwarrows started flying food across the hall. Bilbo groaned and rolled his eyes before having a trance of peace…flying out the window.

Hours or so passed and soup was served for the missing dwarf, and soon enough the other Dwarrows decide that they will clean up the mess. Well, if Bilbo could call thrown cutlery and worrisome habits, the equivalent of cleaning up.

All humbleness left him when they started grinding the knives together, his precious silver knives!

“Could you not do that! You’ll blunt them!” Bilbo exclaimed. The Dwarrows looked at Bilbo and Bofur laughed merrily, saying,

“Ye hear that lads? He said we’ll blunt the knives!” Ever the playful dwarf, that Bilbo wants to strangle and dangle over a pack of wolves, said merrily.

> _Blunt the knives, bend the forks,_
> 
> _Smash the bottles and burn the corks!_
> 
> _Chip the glasses and crack the plates!_
> 
> _That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”_

Then that merrily song ended with plates piled on his dining table, cups of ale drank to the very bottom and washed, and cutleries all in their respectable drawers.

“The late Dwarf would wonder what has ever happened to his companions. Burned to a cinder you will be, if you hadn’t cleaned up after yourselves!”

The Dwarrows gave a mighty laugh and patted the hobbit’s back, which he wonders how he could withstand. Ori, ever the polite one, asked where the plates should go.

“Over there at the top shelf—“

Then someone knocked on the door, and everything ceased.

“He is here.”

Well, this will be lovely to have another dwarf to handle!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the deal!


	4. Confound Dwarrow Kings and their handsomeness!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dwarrow Kings should not mess with hobbits, planning is never one of dwarrows expertise, grammar is being slaughtered, and happy moments of Fili and Kili and a certain Bilbo Baggins in the midst of it all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :P I procrastinate, I am sorry.
> 
> Longer chapter then usual. Want to create the adventure in a separate chapter that I planned a while back. So, enjoy!

> _Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate_
> 
> _\--_ J.R.R Tolkien

“Well then get the door, Gandalf.” Bilbo demanded with vigor in his tone. Gandalf huffed exasperatedly, muttering something about wizards and hobbits.

With that, Gandalf went over to the green door of Bag-End and opened it to reveal the guest on the other side of it.

“Gandalf,” came the low, rumbling voice laced in humor. “I thought you said this place would be easy to find.

Gandalf smiled sheepishly all while he steps back to let the Dwarf step in, sweeping his arms upon his entry. How rude, Bilbo never seen Gandalf’s name, nor his handprint on the deed to Bag-End, nor the will of his father.

“I lost my way twice.”

Bilbo looked at the Dwarf in confusion. How does one get lost in the Shire? There are only two or three roads to follow; surely, one can see Bag-End in the road lights. When Bilbo’s eyes adverted to the gazing blue ones, he finally examined the dwarf. The dwarf was quite handsome, with his pointy hawk nose, and his rather dark haired, braided mane with silver streaks in an intricate order, he also had the consideration in putting his cloak on the pegs provided. Oh, how he loves some dwarrows, and burns the others!

“I wouldn’t have found it at all if it hadn’t been for that mark on the door.”

Mark, what mark?

“Mark?” Bilbo looked at the wizard with a Baggin’s glare. How dare he vandalize his door? “I painted that weeks ago, you sorry lout!”

“Your guests needed the proper guidance of where your house is, and so I guided them with a mark on your door.”

“My guests—“

“Bilbo Baggins,” the wizard interrupted, gesturing at him as if he was eyeing a beautiful hobbit lass. “Allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield.”

The Dwarf—Thorin, Bilbo reminded himself,--stared at the hobbit intently. Bilbo then examined the other dwarrow that surrounded Thorin and himself.

“So… this is the hobbit?”

Now hobbits were not ones to think rudely of others, despite the rant he had early on. They always see the best in others. Well, blast it all! This dwarf said that rather rudely in Bilbo’s opinion, and the admiration towards the Dwarf having any good matters—ha! The dwarf has no matters whatsoever; he even had the audacity in not putting his cloak on the pegs but drape it over Kili’s hands! Seems handsomeness does not aid the mannerisms of dwarrows, no matter the stature.

This one dwarf had the miniscule manners as the rest of these sorry louts, combined, Bilbo can feel it. Hobbits never really hope, but he just hoped one day, one dwarf would have the audacity to grow a pair of manners. However, that thought flew out the window with the rest of Bilbo’s pride.

“So tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?” continued the dwarf with his ever so prideful questions. Oh, how this dwarf came to be, Bilbo did not know! Does he think hobbits can fight?

The dwarf began to circle around Bilbo, as he also circled around Bilbo’s temperament, boiling temperament.

“Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?”

“Well certainly neither of those, though I do have some skill at conkers, if you _must_ know. Though I’m failing to see why that’s relevant,” Bilbo says with a Baggins’ smile upon his face.

Then the dwarf had the audacity into giving the hobbit a condescending smile.

“Thought as much,” he says with a smirk and twinge of amusement, turning toward the Dwarrows standing surrounding him. “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Then something snapped.

Grocer? Did Bilbo hear right? Did this, self-absorbed, pompous Dwarf just call him a grocer? And the other dwarrows had the consideration to chuckle in merriment to the rude put down. Well, Bilbo will not tolerate this with just a pinch of salt, not today; nor any day, in this matter! This pompous dwarf will get what he deserves. However, he could not use any magic! Blast that wizard; blast the being of a witch!

With a smile still plastered on Bilbo’s face—though, it seemed to pale the other dwarrow—he grabbed the pompous dwarf by the shoulder. The lights started to flicker in response to the hobbit’s magic his anger is letting out, the candles blasted with energy as well. The dwarrows—who walked with the pompous dwarf—stopped to examine the scene going on behind them.

“One such as yourself should not come into this smial as if you own it. Primarily, you are a pompous, self-arsing dwarf that does not have a lick of common sense, nor have a pair of manners.” Bilbo grabbed the coat out of Kili’s now wan hands. “Nor do I have the accordance to the dwarf that insults one merrily and chuckle away with other dwarrows in tow, you my friend are no different in that act. I do not serve selfish ones, nor do I serve ones who offer only insult in thanks. I took the liberty of serving you soup, as the other ones of your kin ate all of the other food I could have served you, now I am tempted to shove it down your trousers to prove a valid point into not messing with a hobbit.”

The surprised look on the dwarf’s face was priceless, but Bilbo was too angry to take heed. He shoved the dwarf out of the door and into the balmy night, throwing the coat while the shoved dwarf landed on the ground. Bilbo was a sadistic hobbit, snarky even. Even his Baggin’s smile shined through the dim lighting of the night.  

“If you have the consideration to muster up an apology then please do so right now, or face the night in the Shire.” The other dwarrow just stared at the hobbit. Who knew someone so tiny could take down a dwarf with just his words? Most of them—Kili, Fili, Balin, and Dwalin—merely paled at the sight of Bilbo flaring at the dwarf, peacefully too! “Oh, I see clouds up there. You must hurry, unless you want a deluge to ruin that pretty head of yours.”

The other nine dwarrow started to mutter to one another,

“Blasted hobbit, what is ‘e doin’?”

“Going to get ‘imself killed, is what he is doin’!”

“Thorin better have ‘imself with an apology. Hobbit’s are one hell of a creature, I must say.”

Bilbo tuned them out as soon as the dwarf, outside of his smial, lifted himself off the floor and patted the dust away. His regalia stature still stands, with a taste of guilt and embarrassment laced in it as well. Gandalf nervously huffed and puffed, looking between Hobbit and Dwarf. Some of the other dwarrow was looking at Bilbo, and the others were looking at Thorin, expecting an apology out of him.

Then the pompous dwarf opened his mouth,

“Mister Baggin’s, I apologize for my insults towards yourself and towards your home. It isn’t my right to insult you in your own home while you are willing to serve my kin and I, so I deeply apologize and ask for your forgiveness.”

Oh wow, the dwarf actually apologized. The dwarrows attempted to clap at Thorin’s apology, but Gandalf gave them a stern look.

“Wow, one who offers only insults can pull out formal apologies out of his arse. Well, if that is the case then I accept your apology. However, only on one condition: you explain to me what it is your kin is doing in my home, as you are the leader of this company. That is the condition I give you, follow cordially please. And please, do not burden Kili over ever hanging your coat as if he was a servant. You have two arms and two feet, I expect you to use them in putting your own things in the rightful places.” Bilbo demanded with leadership in his voice. Gandalf puffed merrily as the whole ordeal is over, and the company cheered joyfully as their leader nods his head and goes to do what the hobbit demanded.

~

With that all settled, Thorin settled on the chair provided and drank the served soup, cold. He winced and gagged on the cold, stale flavor of it and went to gulp down ale. Bilbo looked at him with a pointed look, expecting him to start whenever he glanced at him.

Then the other dwarrows joined in, once Thorin finished his cold soup.

Ever the wise one, Balin, asks, being the first one there, “What news of the meeting of Ered Luin? Did they all come?” Thorin gave a shifted eye towards his company. His eyes landed on Bilbo’s before looking towards Balin, with a glint in his eyes.

“Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms,” Thorin said.

“An’ what of the dwarves of the Iron Hills? What of Dain? Are they with us?” Dwalin asks Thorin.

The mentioned dwarf gave a sharp inhale and a deep glare at his empty bowl before responding.

“They will not come.”

The Dwarrows all gave a groan and slammed their hands to the furniture. Bilbo worried about his table, before the wizard gripped his arms. The nerve!

“They say the quest is ours and ours alone.”

The groaning and thumping had more vigor to it after that statement. Bilbo huffed a bit and shoved off Gandalf’s hands.

“Please do stop your abuse onto my furniture, void ever damaging my table if you do not want to have damaged equipment.”

With that, the groans and thumping stopped.

“So, where is this quest? May I ask?”

The hobbit was through with the evasions of dwarrows and the meddling, nosy wizards. He wanted answers, so he was going to get answers now! A bit of magic may be of use—

That is, if the wizard did not open that blasphemous mouth of his!

“Bilbo, let us have a little more light.”

With a sniff, the hobbit went to go slave off for a candle. Ears wide and open, mind as well listen in on a conversation the plucky wizard is having with the dwarrows in his absence.

“Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands,” Gandalf begins with an air of mystery and intrigue as he unfolds a map he pulls from his robes and lays it before the Dwarrow King. Ever the drama and embellishments of a wizard, Bilbo rolls his eyes to, much distaste. “Lies a single solitary peak.”

‘Aha!’ came from the hobbit’s mouth as he finds a candle, hidden in one of his bookshelves. Bilbo came back to the table and nestled it into one of the candle holders provided. With a single strand of magic, the candle lit aflame. The dwarrows were unaware as there full attention was on the map, or Gandalf. The hobbit leaned over the table—taking glances at the pompous dwarf’s handsome face now and again—and looked at the map, interested in the mountain that the wizard pointed out with a dragon nestling itself right over it.

“The Lonely Mountain…”

That sounds quite lonely. Bilbo sees where it got its name.

“Aye, Oin has read the portents and the portents says it’s time.” Gloin said with a hint of importance, that even the dwarrow gave an exasperated sigh before turning to Oin in recognition.

“The ravens have been seen flyin’ back te the mountain as it was foretold... ‘When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end,” Óin says, Gandalf lighting his pipe as he speaks.

Beast, what beast?

“The Dragon?” Bilbo pointed at the dragon that was on top the lonely mountain on the map.

“Well tha’ would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible,” Bofur says. “Chief’est an’ greatest calamity of our age… Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks… Extremely fond of precious metals.”

“I know what a dragon is, with or without those embellishments you had to give, thank you very much.” Bilbo said, rubbing at his temples in annoyance. “Now what does—“

"I’m not afraid! I’m up for it! I’ll give ‘im a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!” Ori exclaims as he jumps up from his seat. Bilbo felt astonished. The dwarf had nothing rude to say nor did anything of the manner, but now Bilbo smashed the very thought of an innocent dwarf under his roof. Dori grabbed ahold of his brother’s arms and brought him down with strength of a mother hen.

“Sit down!” Dori scolded, with a smack to Ori’s head.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen! An’ not thirteen of the best… nor brightest,” Balin says with distress. Greying his hair even more with this quest is not wise, Bilbo thinks with glee. And Bilbo did agree to the ‘nor brightest’ part, these dwarrows didn’t seem too bright with the idea.

Although, like the lesson Bilbo learned, is never to smash dwarrows pride, they will throw everything at you with those stone-sensed brains of theirs, because that is what they did to Balin. The dwarrows started to throw insults aimed at the very center of Balin’s head.

Surprisingly, the dwarf that interrupted it all was Fili. The blond-haired dwarf slammed his hands on the table, lifted himself off of his seat, and replied,

“We may be few in numbers, but we’re fighters…. All of us! To the last dwarf!”

“And do you forget we have a wizard in our company! Gandalf would have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!” Kíli says with youthful enthusiasm.

The other Dwarrows start agreeing and look to the wizard. Bilbo can’t help but smirk.

“Oh no… I-I-I wouldn’t say tha-” Gandalf stutters before Dori interrupts him.

“How many then?”

“What?” Gandalf babbles back in confusion.

“Well how many dragons have ye killed?” Dori continues.

Bilbo really can’t suppress the mischievous grin spreading across his face as Gandalf grumbles and coughs around the smoke he so mistimed in inhaling, small puffs escaping from between his lips, small smoke rings streaming out of the gap of his puckering mouth.

“Go on! Give us a number!”

The dwarrows started to throw insults and arguing, once again. Bilbo stared at the ceiling with wonderment of peace and tranquility, once again, filling his smial. No, the endearment and rambunctious dwarrows shot insults after insults to one another, not even focusing on the wizard at all. Maybe he can use some dark magic, maybe insult the dwarrows with actual rocks for brains.

“Shazara!” Thorin roars, standing quickly from his chair. Well, that ended quickly than Bilbo could imagine.

The other dwarrows went back to their seats, heads hung low. Moments of silence filled the room until the announcer went back to jabbering his mouth.

 “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?” Thorin says with hints of royalty and leadership in it as Gandalf nods along in eager agreement, obviously desperate to move the Dwarrows attention and ire away from himself, even though the attention was not on him anymore.

Old lout, he is.

“Rumors have begun to spread… The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years! Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing… wondering, weighing the risk… Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lay unprotected,” his gaze upon Balin, with intent in his eyes. Bilbo feared they might fall out as it was too intent.

“Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?! Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!”

Bilbo finally figured out as to why they followed the dwarf. He had leadership and a cunning way of words, no matter the vindictive doubts he arrives with, with a pinch of salt and determination in his eyes, he sets out to begin his journey. However, to be blinded by the riches only? What is it this dwarf is holding back? Suspicion filled Bilbo’s ire as he walked back to Gandalf’s side, Thorin’s side in retrospect as well.

“You forget! The front gate is sealed! There is no way into the mountain,” Balin says with finality.

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true,” with a point of his fingers and a meddling smirk, Gandalf flips a dwarvish key out of his pockets. Or thin air, ever the illusionist.

“How came you by this?” By someone, Bilbo thinks sarcastically. Gandalf gave a smirk to Thorin’s suspicious shock.

“It was given to me by your father… by Thrain, for safekeeping,” ‘safekeeping’ being the key word. Safekeeping, Bilbo feared, was not in a wizard’s dictionary. He probably dangled that in everyone’s face in attempt to lead him or her on a foolish treasure hunt. The dwarf obviously went for it.

“These runes—“Gandalf pointed at the map with the ends of his pipe, following the trails of the outer parts of the lonely mountain,”—speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls.”

“There’s another way in!” Kili grinned with enthusiasm. Unaware to the other dwarrows, the youngling gripped his brother’s hands, fingers laced together in vigor to hold himself back.

Captain Obvious, Kili is. The one who is going to clean his mother’s glory box the next day, he is. Bilbo has to make sure to remember telling him that before they leave on the morn.

Gandalf merely smiles and says,

“Well if we can find it as Dwarf doors are invisible when closed.”

The wizard heaves a sigh and looks around at the other Dwarrows.

“The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it,” the wizards huffs his pipe merrily before looking affronted towards the map. “But! There are other on Arda who can.”

Lovely, maps with riddles! Timeless things Bilbo enjoys the most, it’s the simple things he enjoys merrily. Yet, the wizard couldn’t possibly have the magic to open up the map as it is? Out of all the beings of Arda, instead of the elves, the wizard—a descendant of the Valar—did not have the power to bring forth whatever is keeping the dwarrows answer to their rightful place.

“The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth,” he starts again.

“And no small amount of courage,” he continues on, looking at Bilbo with that meddling face of his. Surely he wouldn’t… “But if they are careful, and clever, I believe it can be done!

He did, that confounded, belligerent, vindictive wizard!

“That’s why we need a burglar!” Ori pipes up.

“Yes, and a good one too! An expert, I’d imagine,” Bilbo glared at the vindictive, meddling wizard with all his ire and will.

“And are you, Mister Baggins?” Gloin asks imperiously. The nerve!

“No I am not a burglar of any kind. I have never stolen anything in my life,” Bilbo fumbled with his hands while he faced the red-haired dwarf.

“Ye sure laddie? I have seen you taken that candlestick back from Nori’s undergarments.” Stolen back his property, there is not a sheer coincidence that he is a thief of sorts! How dare that dwarf.

“I have only gotten back my property from Master Nori’s garments, and not stolen it. It is simply just a taking back my own stolen property without calling the Rangers of the North,” he said accusingly. “Anyways, burglars are what you want in a Took, not a Baggin’s of Bag-End—“

“Ey! He did, that hobbit!” Nori exclaimed as he searches through his garments for the candlestick he snatched.

“Burglar material!” Balin said with a jolly smile—Bilbo wanted to go over there and castrate the living sockets out of the dwarf.—and a hearty chuckle.

“Now wait just a minute—“

Bilbo is considering turning these lots to stones.

“Excellent Burglar material indeed! With a witty tongue too,” Ori smiled shyly at Bilbo. Dori covered his lips before turning back to the hobbit. Then the other dwarrows thinks they have a say in this whole predicament.

“But he’s just a tiny creature, surely someone taller than him”

“The lad doesn’t even look like ‘e even seen a battle, even yet a skirmish.”

“Agreed with Thorin on this, he looks more of a grocer than a burglar.”

Then Gandalf snapped.

“Enough!” He stands with magic barely contained within him, a lingering shadow travelled across Bag-End’s ceiling with the lights darkening with it. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is our burglar, then _our_ burglar he is!”

The shadows recede as the Dwarrows finally found their wits and shut up.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, some more frighteningly so than most. In fact, they can pass unseen if they choose… and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage!”

The hobbit blankly stares at the wizard, how dare he implore and sell him out like some rat-wheeled pony those Bucklanders always complain about? Gandalf settled down to his seat with a huff.

“You must trust me on this,” the Gray Wizard implores again, now at the pompous Dwarf.

“Very well, we’ll do it your way.”

“You confounded wizard! Wait just a moment!” Bilbo starts to say but no one took heed. He huffed exasperatedly and barely could contain the magic already pouring out of him.

“Give him the contract,” Thorin orders as he looks at Balin with recognition. A piece of parchment, in the hands of a dwarf, pulled out from the old dwarf’s sockets, and nestled in Thorin’s hands. Thorin, who still need to learn his manners, practically shoves it in the hobbit’s hands. The nerve of this dwarf—oh how he wanted to smack him with ever ounce of—

“We’re in! We’re off!” Bofur says with joy in his tone. Whatever is the need to be jovial is beyond Bilbo’s wits.

“It’s just the usual. Summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, funeral arrangements, so forth.”

“Contracts, one who’s foolish enough to not read the fine print had already sealed their fate.” Bilbo said, “Seems I am doing the same thing…”

His ears picked up the sudden creak of his chair on his wooden floor, and a certain dwarf speaking to a meddling wizard.

“I cannot guarantee his safety.”

“Understood.”

“Nor will I be responsible for his fate.”

There was a pause of silence, Bilbo did not look, but he knew Gandalf was too busy thinking and sulking to answer quickly.

“Agreed…” he finally said. The dwarf settled down on his chair and looked at his fellow companions. Gandalf nervously puffed on his pipe.

“Terms: cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any,” he mumbles. “Hm... Seems fair considering a dragon’s involved… Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to… lacerations… evisceration… _incineration_?!”

He turned back to the Dwarrows, the wizard went wide eyed in disbelief.

“Are you lot making me fight a dragon, or be burned at the stake?!”

He sees the Dwarf’s shoulders twitch.

“Well no, but best to ‘ave all bases covered, aye?” Bofur says jovially. “He’ll melt the flesh right off yer bones in the blink of an eye.”

“And this paragraph is in everyone’s contract?”

“Aye...” Balin says, sparing the Hobbit a concerned stare. “Ye a’right laddie?”

“Oh yes, fine… However, incineration isn’t something I take lightly,” Bilbo says flippantly.

“Think furnace with wings!”

“Truly, Master Bofur-”

“Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! Yer nothin’ more than a pile of ash!”

“Are you quite done, Master Bofur.” The hobbit says with a glare and twitching of the eyebrows.

“Ye’, I am,” That dwarf had the audacity to put a grin on his face. Bilbo’s glare darkened, but settled once he turned back to the other dwarrows.

“If you’ll excuse me, I will take my time to consider this agreement and get back to you in the morning.” Bilbo chirped, Thorin’s mood darkened and Bilbo’s mood lightened at the thought.

“If you need me, I am going to be in my studies. Rooms are down the hall, share if need be. Oh and Thorin, please do lessen that glare, you do not want to be sleeping outside, do you?” Bilbo felt the glare heading towards him, “Please do not forget the key as well you will need that if it’s ever going to be inserted in a mountain.”

Bilbo smirked when Thorin fumbled for the key on the table, settling himself once he finds it in his pocket and not in front of him. The dwarrow laughed heartily at the ambiguous dwarf.

~

“Gandalf, is it considered wise to go off on a foolish whim?”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“Mother had always told me about her wondrous tales in Rivendell and how one ventures there, and then there is my father whom wanted only for me to proudly shine in the Baggin’s name. Then there is you, who was always there after the death of my parents and now wanting me to go on a foolish quest with stone-sensed beings that can’t think for themselves.”

“Bilbo, your parents only want what was best for you. You dad, I could not agree with, and your mother, who was always my dear friend. No matter the way you go, Bilbo, you will always find home. I don’t even think that you consider Bag-End your home anymore. Simply a fragment or memory of your family, but your heart never truly lies here.”

“It’s a hole in the ground, built by my father. It holds a true Baggin’s name, but… I never really liked being a Baggins’. I was never considered respectable and other hobbit’s has this whim of me being a witch and eating their fauntling. Bag-End will truly not hear a children’s laugh again, not even a giggle. True enough, you are right once again, Gandalf. My heart does not lie within the captivity of Bag-End, no matter the comforts I love.”

Gandalf smiled at that, his old hands settled on the tensed shoulder of a Bilbo Baggin’s, Took would have been good. “Will you be joining us then?” Gandalf said.

“Hardly deplorable when the leader clearly wants me dead. Pulling a stunt like that made him glare daggers at me!” Bilbo said, but a cheeky grin adorned his face then. “I guess. This contract seems rather fair. But I will need time to set up a will,” Bilbo pointed towards the drawer of parchment and ink, “because I will not see Bag-End in a certain Bracegirdle’s hands, as long as I live.”

Gandalf snickers mischievously and ruffles Bilbo’s curls. Excitement filled the wizard, from head-to-toe.

“My dear boy, it will be wondrous! I assure you.”

Bilbo smiled up at the wizard, before turning back to the hearth.

“I’ve missed you Gandalf,” Bilbo said with sadness growing in his eyes. No matter what, Gandalf would always be with him. His heart is too big for all of Arda, but his eyes always settle with Bilbo. Ever the care-taker when his mother died, raising him to be the person he is today and the person he is going to be on this adventure, hopefully.

“And I you, my dear Bilbo.”

The wizard’s robes shuffled across the floor in quick succession. Soon the door of his study creaked open and closed, letting a certain wizard out.

He was once again alone.

~

“Kili,”

A certain dwarfling made his appearance known in his study with a rough embrace. The cheeky dwarfling soon settled himself on the other armchair, where his mother used to sit.

“Mister Boggins! Ever the delight to see you happy, for once.” Kili gave a grin, “A smile adorns your face rather well, if I say so myself.”

Bilbo chuckled. Kili was surprised; he was expecting a snarky comment to come out of the hobbit.

“Well then, I will be more… eccentric. I would be happy if you cleaned my mother’s glory box.”

“I didn’t mud it up.”

“I never said you mud it up. I said to clean it.”

“But I…”

“Butts are for sitting, and I is you and you need to clean it up.”

“Fine!”

“There is a good lad. Now, would you be a dear and pass me a parchment, quill, and ink from that drawer over there?”

“Ok!” The bipolarity of dwarrows are ones to trifle with, stale water those are. Kili jumped out of his seat and went towards the drawer Bilbo pointed out to; he grabbed the necessities and went back towards Bilbo. “Here you go, Mister Boggins!”

“Thank you lad,” Bilbo said. His hands gripped the quill and placed the parchment on his desk to begin to write. With every word dripping with ink, the hobbit rolled his eyes incredulously. “…the rights of Bag-End, from this day onward until I return, will be placed in my cousin’s, Drogo Baggins name, and any who he weds.”

“Mister Boggins, what is that?” Kili asked curiously. His eyes glazed through the will that was written rather quickly. His eyes settled on an insult.

‘There would be no right to go towards any Sackville-Bagginses as long as I live, nor will there be any cutlery stolen by a certain Lobelia. The Sackville-Bagginses will get nothing out of this.’

“Are you going to die on this adventure?” The dwarfling examined the title: Will.

“No, it is just something that I want to make sure I do before I do end up dying on this quest.” Bilbo chirped, “I will have to face a dragon.”

“But you can riddle it too death! With your words, even the Wraiths can drop dead…again!” Kili grinned, “I will protect you! Mister Boggins, you will never be left alone.”

Bilbo smiled, truly, at that.

“If you can’t say my last name correctly, then please, say my first name, Bilbo, Master Kili.”

“Then please say Kili from now on. Master really is like slavery…. I hate slavery.”

“I too don’t enjoy slavery, but what are we to do?”

“True,” Kili agreed.

The loud, youthful, enthusiastic dwarfling came towards Bilbo with an embrace in tow. He squeezes the hobbit before turning back to his seat, and settling into it once again.

Then the door creaked open, again.

“Brother!” Kili called out instinctively and went to greet Fili—Bilbo distinctly remembered--, and what warmed his heart was the embrace they shared. The two dwarflings looks like they are inseparable, not even the world could severe the bonds between these two. However, the embrace did have a longing within it.

 ‘Ahem!’ was heard and the two dwarflings scuffled down to a seat. Fili, being the new one, looked over the parchment in wonderment.

“You are planning to die on this quest, Mister Baggins?” Thank Yavanna; one dwarfling got the name right.

“It’s Bilbo, Master Fili. And no, if I do die on this quest then all of the rights go to my cousin, Drogo.” Bilbo said with a hint of amusement when Fili accidentally smeared ink on the parchment. “No need to fret that is just a rough copy. The final edit would be finished in the morning.”

“Oh… thank _Mahal,_ I thought I will be getting a scolding from you.” Bilbo chuckled and Kili laughed heartily. Fili joined afterwards, finding his merits.

“Enough with you, master Fili. There is a certain extent I would go into scolding dwarflings, such as yourself.”

“It’s just Fili, Bilbo, no need of the master business. And we are not dwarflings! We have already come of age!”

“Come of age my arse, you never put the food on your mouth. See there, you have a piece of ham on your beard and fish eyeballs laced within your braids!

“That is—“

“Food that never made it to your mouth,” Bilbo intercepted. The youngling’s expression filled with surprise at the Hobbit’s cunning personality and words, it made them laugh in unison once the awkwardness lifts to the ceiling and out of the smial.

“This is an adventure that I am looking forward to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill!


	5. Far over the smial the adventure awaits!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where things are discussed, friend making, grammar butchered, and the adventure finally begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I had no time yesterday due to being a high school student with an aspiration of all kinds of things, such as AP homework--so I am sorry.
> 
> It is still a 4000+ worded 12 paged doc. So it should suffice for the time being, right?
> 
> Trolls are coming from the Ettenmoors near the camp of Dwarrow and a witchy hobbit next chapter, if I have the time to start it today! I have only just finished this chapter.

> "It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him."
> 
> \--J.R.R. Tolkien

Peace, tranquility… all left the door when Dwalin made his appearance known with Bilbo’s vase dropping to the floor, breaking into fixable pieces of pristine marble. The hobbit’s huff of exasperation triggered Dwalin’s eyes to go wide. He had only just waltzed in to talk to the hobbit while the vase, nestled on the nightstand, and coincidentally was when Dwalin slammed the door open.

 “Mister Dwalin, I do hope you come here without the intention in breaking any more of my property.” The hobbit said with admonishment laced in his voice. Dwalin gave an exasperated huff, he had not meant it, and the vase was just there!

Bilbo waved at the dwarf when the said dwarf was about to pick the pieces off the floor. “No need, no need. I fear that your kin’s equivalent to cleaning is something to trifle with, and I would like to use a broom for once. So please do leave it alone.” Dwalin resents that to the fullest decree. However, the loyal dwarf could only muster up a chuckle and silent agreement. Dwarrows are not used to being house cleaners nor does having the host force them to be house cleaners.

“Aye,” he circles the clutter he created and settled on the chair near Bilbo.

Bilbo raised his eyebrow at the dwarf, “What is it you want, Dwalin?”

“To know much more ‘bout you, hobbit,” Dwalin said gruffly. Well, as gruffly as one can put it in the nature of a dwarf. “Life is full of mysteries, an’ you’re one of them.”

“I am a mystery? Surely, one cannot be mysterious such as I. I am an ordinary hobbit, an ordinary hobbit that has a lick of wit.” Bilbo said imperiously towards the dwarf. Dwalin chuckled amusedly, much to the hobbit’s endearment. Offending ones propriety is not wise in the eyes of a hobbit.

“’Tis just amusing te see your wit defeating my king.”

What did he just say?

“What king? Surely there is no such royalty in my smial.” Surely, the hobbit knows, does he not? Dwalin chuckled at the thought. “The only person I defeated is a sheer-mannered, pompous-raping dwarf.” The dwarf chortled a laugh and leaned back in his chair, his hands crumpled on his sides to support the aching pain from the paroxysm of laughter.

“That same dwarf is my king.”

Truly? The king of a diluted mountain of golden dragon manure and possibly a dragon in the midst of it all is that same dwarf that he attempted to throw out of his smial.

Well that does not change anything.

“Well, king under the mountain or not, he is not the king under a smial.” Bilbo snipped.

“True,” Dwalin agreed with a tip of his head. “But he is still our king.”

“Your king, not mine. We hobbits do not live under monarchy.” The hobbit said in a matter-of-factly tone. He settled his quill on the desk, stretching his arms.

“Truly?” Dwalin asked with a curiosity laced within. Bilbo nodded in askance, why has the dwarf suddenly take interest? The hobbit looked at the candle on the desk, the flame barely lit. With a flicker, the flame bursts. The dwarf jumped and the hobbit laughed.

“How did ye do that?” The dwarf asked with wide eyes.

“None of your concern,” Bilbo looked at the dwarf. “So tell me, why are you here? Surely it is not to know much more about me, might bore the stockings out of you dwarrows.”

“The wizard didn’ tell ye?” Dwalin drawled a growl and scoffed at the hobbit. “Ye weren’ payin’ attention?”

“I have you know, Mister Dwalin, I was paying every ounce of my attention to your little planning session over there. Your planning was distasteful and needed fervor, no one is wise enough to face a dragon, but in addition, stealing from one has a death wish glued to the table. Imagine roasted hobbit; maybe even hobbit-y dragon food, how wonderful would that be!” Bilbo thought he would be the only hobbit eaten by a dragon. How lovely.

“Didn’ means fo’ offense, Master Baggins,” Dwalin lifted his hands.

“I didn’t mean for to attack you with wit, just a little bit of a heads up… or two.”

Dwalin chuckled at that, cheeky dwarf.

“’re you plannin on goin’?”

“Yes, I do actually.” Bilbo said with a huff of pride. “Perfect time to actually see if I could riddle a dragon, Kili gave me the idea to do so.” Dwalin laughed once again with Bilbo and both leaning back into their chairs.

“Your words‘re like millions of arrows,” Dwalin continued to laugh. Bilbo let out a stutter-y sigh and leaned back towards Dwalin.

“I do hope so. I cannot accept the mild mannered, ignorant dwarrow that just popped out of the wizard’s robes.” Bilbo smiled at Dwalin before leaning back in his chair, his doubts diminished in the dwarf’s presence. Dwalin put back up his bulwark and looked at the hobbit with seriousness one sees in a warrior—a loyal warrior.

“Do you not like my king?”

“That pompous dwarf is not on my blacklist, I believe. I do not truly dislike him, nor do I have the heart to hate him. It’s a simple whim of words he has—“

“He’s bad with words.”

“I have noticed.” How come every dwarf interrupts one who speaks, never interrupts one who meddles? Bilbo could never understand any logic clouding the dwarrows minds.

“He is; he couldn’t outwit his sister, Dis.

“Oh he has a sister?” Bilbo piqued up curiosity. He feared the dwarrows rubbed on him too often with their calloused hands and gruff personalities, it might have rub on him as well. Oh Yavanna.

“Aye, Dis is her name. Dis can be a little crude ‘ith words, such as yerself.” Dwalin gestured towards Bilbo, earning a glare from him. The dwarf smirked cheekily and went back to explain, “She’s beautiful, jus’ like Thorin. But already has a One.”

“Oh, so you were in love with her?”

“Nah, I was smitten once, but childhood crushes eh? What’re yer gonna do?”

“Of course, of course, I was once in love.”

“Ye’re in love once?” Dwalin was shocked. How did a creature with a witty tongue and a nasty snarl ever fall in love? Does this creature even know how to fall in love?

“Indeed,” Bilbo said with a distant look. His mind looked towards another hobbit with viciously long blond hair and a smirk that can smite plenty women. “A simple hobbit that had the lick of adventure once, but as all things goes—they must end.”

“Did ‘e die?”

“Yes, he passed away not too long ago,” Bilbo drawled. “Once I was left in isolation, here in this smial, that particular hobbit used to throw stones at my window! He asked me to join him on the trail to the Four Farthings! Go on a little adventure, he said.”

“Did ye?”

“Sadly… no, I was too—Baggins-y with adventures, or ever going out of my smial at the time, but he always did come back. Find me staring out the window or doing something utterly boring in my study, but for the most part I was quite smitten with him.”

“What did ‘e look like?”

“Hm… now that I think about it, he did have blond hair. His family was a Took so he had a lick of adventure, and he had no plump stomach on his body.”

“’uch as yerself?”

“Such as myself, indeed,” Bilbo looked down at his stomach. A respectable Baggins always has a plump stomach! As much as the next hobbit should, his father once said. “However, before he passed he always loved sticking notes on the door. I only acknowledged them when my Gardener, Hamfast, was knocking at my door. It was cute, very cute.”

“Why ‘ave you not responded?” Dwalin asked with interest.

“I was an isolated hobbit with a past, a past that I might not get rid of. I fear if spoken in words, I might break.”

“What do ye mean?”

“The past should be left alone, closed off in memories. With me, I… cannot simply close these memories off with anything.” Bilbo tears brewed in his eyes with the memories held within. Dwalin gave a frown—more of a grimace—and wiped at his cheek.

“Ye don’ ‘ave to tell me, if ye don’ want to.” Dwalin rubbed at his cheeks at the offending tears. His calloused hands felt warm to Bilbo, but never said a peep. Soon the comforting came to an end and Dwalin leaned back in his chair. Bilbo rubbed his eyes one last time before looking up at Dwalin, seeing a loyal warrior not a daft, cheeky dwarf he met at the door sitting on his mom’s armchair.

“Dwarrows are interesting creatures, indeed.”

“So are hobbits,” Dwalin retorted. They both gave off a chuckle. Maybe, just a tiny bit of maybe, that they can find family within one another. Bilbo knew dwarrows are closed off creatures, with very little interest in strangers’ affairs only in their own accordance, and Dwalin knew the same about hobbits.

“True, true, all is true. We are indeed interesting creatures, but some of us I fear you would disappoint.”

“Nah! Hobbits are light on their feet, that wizard told us! An’ you stole that key ‘ight under Thorin’s nose!”

“Indeed I did,” Bilbo gave another chuckle and leaned back in his chair. He looked over at the contract, laying safely on the desk with ever creased folded accordingly. “Now, off with you! I have a contract to sign and a will to write!”

“Aye, ye bossy creature.”

“Oh, and please hand me the broom over there! No one wants scarred feet, now do we?”

“Bossy creature, indeed,” Dwalin growled playfully before throwing the broom at Bilbo, who fumbled with physics to get out of his chair to catch the offending broom.

Bilbo glared daggers at the receding dwarf before sweeping the floor. “You confounded dwarf! What if you had break another one of my mother’s china! Or vases, whichever of the sort!” said Bilbo, “And the name is Bilbo!” The door closed.

That damn dwarf.

~

“Dwalin,” Thorin sneered and glared at the walking dwarf. “What have you been doing with the Halfling?”

“The name is Bilbo,” Dwalin caught when the hobbit practically shrilled his voice through the dwarf. He could even still here the muttering from the snarky hobbit. Something about confustication and bebotheration, Dwalin suspected. Thorin looked surprised but shook his head.

“Is he with us, or not?” Thorin glared at the door before fixating his gaze towards Dwalin.

“Aye ‘e is. Willin’ to go riddle a dragon, that brave hobbit,” Dwalin chuckled at the thought, which earned a glare from Thorin.

“If he thinks this is just games, then—“

“’e isn’t, Mahal Thorin, I was jus’ kiddin’” Dwalin snorted. Takes Thorin to overreact over nothing, the hobbit was correct; he is a daft dwarf.

“Peace, Dwalin, peace,” Thorin raised his hands at the mobilized Dwalin. He shook uneasily back, what has the hobbit said to earn the loyalty of his guard? How had the hobbit swindle his way into his kin’s, his brother-in-battle, loyal heart? “I hadn’t meant it such as that, I was just wondering if he had the audacity to think this quest as merely child’s play.”

“Which ‘e isn’t!”

“Then I apologize for my assumptions,” Thorin said with sarcasm laced in it. Dwalin sneered at his king, who knew one could act such as daft as this dwarf!

Right on point, the hobbit entered the hall. Surprised to see the two, Bilbo placed the sweeping pan filled with glass on the table and the broom right next to it.

“Ah, you guys are still here.” Bilbo looked between Dwalin and Thorin, both towering over him. He huffed exasperatedly and says, “Master Dwalin and the Pompous Dwarf,” Thorin glared at the creature in front of him, blue eyes squinting and awaiting to pierce the hobbit.

“Where shall we be, Master Baggins?” Sarcasm does not get one far especially when one uses it against a hobbit, a Baggins at that. “Should we be in our rooms? Well I’m sorry to intrude on that thought; my kin are meeting in your den area.” Thorin growled, unanimously gazing over the hobbit.

“Then go meet them? Sarcasm doesn’t get one so far when invited into other people’s home.” Bilbo looked up at the dwarf. So the Dwarrow King still needed to be taught manners. Well, Bilbo would be happy to oblige. “Especially when there was food provided for everyone, such as yourself.”

“Usually food is served hot, not cold.” Thorin sneered at the hobbit. Invites them into his home and provides food-hah!

“Well, that was yere fault ther’.” Dwalin pointed out absentmindedly.

“That was, indeed. You were the one who sassed me, embarrassed me infront of the uninvited guest, and had the audacity to act like you are royalty in _my smial_.”

“I am Royalty!”

“Not in my smial you are not.” Bilbo glared daggers at Thorin, “You are not under a mountain, but under a hill. There is a difference if you must know.”

“I—“

Fili and Kili entered the room, looking for their Uncle or whatever.

“Uncle,” they said in unison. Excitement filled the air when the two walked in, “and Bilbo!” More excitement came in. The two went over to the hobbit and embraced him.

“Unhand me you dirty heathens!” The hobbit struggled in their grips, “You just have seen me not too long ago!”

“Not too long ago was still too long,” Kili drawled with merit. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the younger dwarf. How dare he use his own words against himself? Under-handed heathens with no common sense whatsoever, indeed!

“What is your excuse?” Fili looked over at Bilbo and the hobbit stared right back.

“Don’t have one,” Fili shrugged. He gave a laugh when the hobbit struggled more in their grips.

The hobbit had enough with the brother’s merits and amusement—well, they did give him the gift of enthusiasm—, and he had enough of their embraces! Rough-handled, hard, embraces those were! Magic surged within him, with a lust for release. Therefore, he let it. The magic emitted a blinding glow for just a split second, and the brothers soon find themselves on the floor, on the side of the hobbit. Their eyes widened within seconds of excruciating pain, then forced to be on the floor by something against their will.

“How did ye do that?” Dwalin asked with his voice raising just slightly, and Thorin just gazed—shocked.

“None of your concern,” Bilbo glared pointedly at Dwalin. Then he looked down at the dwarflings with their eyes widened and lips opening and closing within every second, seems they wanted to say something, but they cannot, Bilbo smirked. “Refrain from giving me unexpected forms of embraces when we go on the road, it will not end well for the both of you.”

The boys nodded in response but still gave an adoring grin. Bilbo smiled, Dwalin gaped, and Thorin stared—shocked.

“Ok, Bilbo!” The boys said with unison before getting off the floor, brushing off the dust, and walking off to join the other dwarrows. “Oh, and Uncle, Balin wanted everyone to meet in the den area!”

Thorin didn’t respond, he knew beforehand anyways. However, his gaze did not leave the hobbit--it fixated on him. How did the hobbit do that? How did the hobbit get out of his nephews embrace? Even Thorin had a hard time brushing them off him since birth! With just a brush of the hobbit’s hands, the boys were on the floor grinning like a maniac but with widened eyes too.

What is this hobbit?

“Uncle,” Bilbo licked his lips, “Who is their uncle?”

“Ah, that must be Thorin, laddie,” Dwalin still gaped but responded. Bilbo thought the dwarf lost his tonsils but immediately shoved the thought down his throat. The hobbit looked towards the Dwarrow King in question and reassurance, but the King stayed gazing at the hobbit—shocked. “Sons of Dis and Vili, nephews and crown-princes of Erebor,” Thorin glared at the dwarf for telling every ounce of their information to the hobbit—a stranger of all people!

“They do not act like crown-princes, not even half as a full grown dwarf. They act like rascals, which would go good with this quest. Gives me some merit. However, what frightens me is that they are Thorin’s nephews…” The hobbit had a heated glare behind him, “They do not act such as that aforementioned pompous dwarf I had to deal with before.”

“Nah! Growing up with Thorin , he was a rascal,” Dwalin said with distaste but merit towards the hobbit. “Should’ve seen’em—“

“Dwalin, we must meet your brother in the den, right this instance!” Thorin interrupted, his face flustered. Bilbo smirked at the embarrassed dwarf. Hah! Serves him right, Bilbo danced in his mind.

“Aye, aye. I tell ye later,” Dwalin gave Bilbo one last smirk before he left towards the den are, leaving the two alone.

Bilbo smirked up at the pompous dwarf and Thorin glared daggers at the stubborn, snarky hobbit.

“Do you not have to meet your kin inside the den area?” Bilbo said cheekily and Thorin huffed before nodding his head. He made his way to the door and looked back at the chuckling hobbit.

What is he?

~

Bilbo found this much unexpected, very unexpected indeed.

The dwarrows—the same dwarrows that threw cutleries and his mother’s china all over the place, and pillaged his pantry—started to sing a rather depressing song.

_“Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away ere break of day_

_To seek the pale enchanted gold._

_The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,_

_While hammers fell like ringing bells In places deep, where dark things sleep,_

_I_ _n hollow halls beneath the fells._

_For ancient king and elvish lord_

_There many a gleaming golden hoard_

_They shaped and wrought, and light they caught_

_To hide in gems on hilt of sword._

_On silver necklaces they strung_

_The flowering stars, on crowns they hung_

_The dragon-fire, in twisted wire_

_They meshed the light of moon and sun._

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To claim our long-forgotten gold._

_Goblets they carved there for themselves_

_And harps of gold; where no man delves_

_There lay they long, and many a song_

_Was sung unheard by men or elves._

_The pines were roaring on the height,_

_The winds were moaning in the night. T_

_he fire was red, it flaming spread;_

_The trees like torches blazed with light._

_The bells were ringing in the dale_

_And men they looked up with faces pale;_

_The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire_

_Laid low their towers and houses frail._

_The mountain smoked beneath the moon;_

_The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom._

_They fled their hall to dying fall Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

_Far over the misty mountains grim_

_T_ _o dungeons deep and caverns dim_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To win our harps and gold from him!”_

With each note, they left a pang in Bilbo’s heart. When the dwarf left, the hobbit fled to his room soon enough to start packing. However, since his room was adjacent to the den, he could hear the deep octaves and rumbling hums of the dwarrows. It was calming, until Thorin—Bilbo suspected—started singing, rather beautifully.

The song brought tears to the hobbit’s eyes. Never has he ever heard such longing for a home, for gold, and a place to be. To have their home taken away by greed, and with that greed, left them nothing. Their homes filled with desolation and fire—the hobbit broke. His mind fixated on the Fell-Winter, how he had almost lost his home, but lost something else in the process.

The tears welling up within him released like a strength of a waterfall. The vigor the tears let out drizzled on the floor with sadness and uselessness. How is this hobbit going to help them get their home back, from a dragon nonetheless! He couldn’t even help his mother—

Bilbo cut himself off, mid-thought. He did not want to think of these things! He has to give this a go! He must show the Valar and his parents that he strong enough to lead these dwarrows home. Perishing the thoughts of the Fell-Winter—driving back to the back of his mind—the hobbit continued packing his clothes and such. His hands clasped onto the garment, his mother’s garment, with more tears streaming down his face.

He stopped soon afterwards.

He leaned against the bed in askance. His gaze settled on the piece of cloth, his mother’s handkerchief. He remembered a time when Belladonna used to complain that she has forgotten her handkerchief whenever she came back from Rivendell. Bilbo smiled at the thought. His mother was clumsy and stubborn, but she was also strong and willful, the kind of person Bilbo wanted to become.

Oh how these Dwarrow swindled into his heart Bilbo could not fathom.

“ _The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way, Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say”_

Bilbo whispered, humming the same note his mother used to sing. His hands quickly reached for his broach and packed it quick enough to let the last note leave him.

“Confusticate and bebother these dwarrows!”

~

The next morning filled the smial with gleam. The dwarrows were fed a hearty breakfast, credit due to Bilbo Baggins, who left to give the final edit of his will to the Thain. Gandalf, who everyone has forgotten, joined them soon enough with his staff tapping on the floor and hat brimming his thick eyebrows—, which were raised.

“Where is our hobbit?” Gandalf asked with curiosity. Balin smiled and looked at the wizard with his pipe in hand.

“He went to his Thain to give his will,” Balin huffed on his pipe, “He will be back soon enough.”

“Ah, organized hobbits must always keep their smials in ship-shape.” Gandalf said with a roll of his eyes. “Especially those of a Baggins,” the wizard gave another eye roll.

Gandalf took out his pipe and put in some Old Toby he stashed in his pockets. A wizard’s sockets will always have something, but that something is always unsuspecting. He lit it up with his fingers, courtesy to Narya, and huffed and puffed merrily patiently waiting for the hobbit. He smiled once he seen a familiar hobbit with eyes following the creature, especially of Hamfast’s—who thought that Bilbo would always isolate himself in his smial.

“You wouldn’t believe how much suitors Bilbo had once the Fell-Winter left the Shire.”

“Truly? The same snarky hobbit that served us a sarcastic merriment and frightening glares?”

“I believe so,” Gandalf tapped his staff with crinkled fingers, his eyebrows raised. Balin gave a chuckle with a roll of his eyes. “Never had the heart to reject them, neither the heart to accept them.”

“Aye, it would seem the hobbit is a bachelor.”

“Indeed he is, rather unsuspecting. He is a beautiful hobbit,” Gandalf chuckled at the thought. However, Balin couldn’t disagree to that, even he seen the beauty of the hobbit—even though that particular hobbit had a tongue to trifle with—and he wouldn’t regret ever laying his eyes upon him. Determination and strength radiated from the hobbit like the sun, his blond-curls held stories and wisdom deep beneath them, fingers — though slim and not calloused such as the dwarrows — held swift and stealth, and his stomach was flat but still held a little soft parts around his waist. He was a rather beautiful hobbit.

“Too bad, I bet you the other dwarves of Erebor would have swoon over him, if we hadn’t lose them to fire of course.”

“Of course,” Gandalf whispered, “Even the elves would have their hearts swoon over him.”

“Wouldn’t want Thorin hearing that,” Balin said, Gandalf chuckled.

Bilbo finally joined the group of smokers and looked at Gandalf, glaring at the wizard for having his stash of Old Toby. He rolled his eyes in merriment before his gaze settled on Balin.

“How was the trip to the Thain, my dear?” Gandalf said with his eyebrows rised. Balin feared they might jump out.

“Shocked to say that it went well,” Bilbo said, “Though, I daresay that it went worse. Fortinbras II Took is one to trifle with, going off unexpectedly, and finally coming out of my smial.” The hobbit huffed and rolled his eyes at the thought. “Although, he accepted my will and now Bag-End is given to my cousin, Drogo and any of his suitors, and none to that Lobelia—all will standalone in my absence, or if I die.” Gandalf choked a little and Balin eyes widened. Die, did the hobbit just say if he died? Nonchalantly too, how does the hobbit not fear death?

“My dear, you would not die. Not if I have anything to do with it.” Gandalf said with determination settling in his eyes. He loved hobbits, but Bilbo was all he got of memorandum of Belladonna Took. Therefore, he would protect him if he could.

“Aye, we dwarrows will protect you, Mister Baggins.”

“Bilbo, please. I had enough of Mister and Master’s to last me a lifetime, and I am quite sick of hearing Kili say: ‘Mister Boggins.’” Bilbo mocked Kili’s enthusiastic tone and Balin and Gandalf laughed at the hobbit’s mockery. Sounded like a dying cat other than a young dwarf.

“A’ight, Bilbo it is.” Balin settled down with another huff, but still chuckled merrily into it. “Since you are here, prepared and ready to take off, I would need the contract to settle it.”

“Oh, yes, yes—“Bilbo fumbled with his pockets and revealed a parchment, the contract. “Here it is, signed and all.” Balin grabbed out his monocle, analyzed the contract, and smiled.

“Then I guess it’s settled, we would need to head towards Bree to get the ponies settled.”

Gandalf chuckled.

~

Bilbo’s eyes fixated on the blue skies above them.

Clouds circling one another in play, the sun trickling down with it’s morning dew, and a rather meddling wizard’s staff poking out, blocking his view of any other interesting thing. The hobbit rolled his eyes at the meddling wizard, botheration the wizard is!

He was on a pony—, which he named Myrtle—patting gently on the ponies head, but sneezed relentlessly with every trot. Realization slapped his cheek.

“Gandalf have you a handkerchief I could use?”

“No I do not,” Gandalf said with a chuckle in suit. They were already far off from the Shire and heading towards who knows where, and Bilbo forgotten his handkerchief.

Then a ball of worn cloth hit the back of Bilbo’s neck.

Luckily, the cloth lathered itself over the pony’s back and laid there, waiting for usage. “There ye go laddie!” Bofur chirped. Bilbo rolled his eyes before picking it up and blowing his nose into it.

 “Thank you,” Bilbo muttered before grabbing onto the reigns.

_~_

 

> _Off to Erebor, the mountain shall wait._
> 
> _Lay beneath the golden hoard lies malevolence—death._
> 
> _Shimmering with gems and gold, death opens its eyes with fire within them._
> 
> _Orange with hews of darkness, blinded by greed, the same greed that took away the homes of Dwarves._
> 
> _Awaiting for the dwarves of Erebor to strike back,_
> 
> _The fire was red, it flaming spread; The trees like torches blazed with light._
> 
> _The Adventure begins!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 The end is a cheesy thing I came up with. It does not make any actual, factual sense within lore nor anything within Tolkien-Crafted knowledge, I just played around with things and came up with something as cheesy as this.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Another cliffhanger as well! <3 love me still.
> 
> And I am happy to reach 1000+ hits. Didn't know people actually read this shit xD!


	6. Trolls and all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trolls has come down from the Ettenmoors, smashing every building and scavenging delectable remnants of treasures within their grasp. Bilbo laid his eyes upon the carnage of it all in Eriador as the Company presses on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trolls are here, finally! 
> 
> Sorry, I decided to take a little time off of ao3 because of life. Life, as you know it, is filled with dangerous and adorable things! I was stuck with the worst of them all, summer homework. 
> 
> So I am sorry for the late chapter, longer than usual--somewhat. And I hope you enjoyed. I practically slaughtered Grammar and action in this chapter, but I had fun writing it! 
> 
> Read on!

 

> _Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate. --J.R.R Tolkien_

A screech from afar echoed through the valley.

“What was that?” A frightened Ori was a cute Ori, but his brothers wrapped their arms around him like a security blanket. Bilbo heard the troublesome younglings snicker in unison from the corner of the cave they all settled in.

“Orcs!” Fili said, brewing up trouble with a smirk. Kili followed his brother in his glee. By the Valar, these two are a menace.

“O-Orcs?” Ori whimpered, the poor thing looked like he was going to wet himself! Bilbo looked at the brothers with a warning glare; he did not want them to frighten the poor thing!

“Throat cutters. There'd be dozens of them out there. The low lands are crawling with them.” Fili exclaim. One can almost hear the eye roll from Balin, who resided near the fire warming himself up.

“They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.” Kili finished. The other two Ri brothers looked at Kili like some kind of prey-meets-predator situation. They were ready to kill. Bilbo looked at Ori in worry; the poor thing looked frightened. Ori had his book clutched against his chest, his knuckles wan, and his eyes drooped down to the ground. Bilbo felt horrible in not comforting the poor thing, he turned his head to meet Thorin, the former fumed with rage.

“You think that’s funny? You think a night raid of orcs is a joke?” In Bilbo’s opinion, Thorin said that overly dramatic with his hair shining in the moonlight, and back facing Bilbo. Then the hobbit turn towards the troublemaking princes, they had the decency to look ashamed.

“We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kili looked down and sat back down on a large enough stone, his brother wrapping his arms around him in comfort.

“No you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” Once again, Thorin was being over dramatic about this whole predicament. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the dwarrow king and looked at Ori if he was ok. Which he was, his brothers’ finally found their little brother sleeping the night away. Balin walked beside Bilbo with his wizened hands on his shoulder.

“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs.” Bilbo looked over at the dwarrow king before settling himself on his seat. He had not known that he even got off the seat; worriment does take ahold of those sick with worry, unknown of their own actions in the process.

Balin looked over at his king before looking back at their burglar. The old dwarf started weaving up a tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar. The tale of the White Orc and the last battle of the War of the Dwarves and Orcs, it was a tall tale of Thorin’s Uncle, Thror, and his crucial slaughter. Thrain, whose body remained unfound, and the upbringing of Thorin’s ‘Oakenshield’ counterpart, it was an eventful tale but with a slick of depression; the exiled Dwarrows all suffered through their loss of the King of Erebor, battled at the Dimrill Dale, and thousands among thousands died in mutilation and slaughter.

However, there was one problem…

“What happened with the Pale Orc?” Balin brought up the name Azog the Defiler, who proclaimed that he is to kill and slaughter the Line of Durin. Bilbo’s curiosity got the better of him, but he will not back down, not even to the glare Thorin flung at him.

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago.” Thorin sounded sure of himself. However, there was doubt and Gandalf looked hesitant in the corners of Bilbo’s eyes. Bilbo eyed at Thorin before looking at the fire. One could see the unsureness and reciprocal amount of doubt in the wizard’s eyes.

Well, Azog is not dead is he?

~

Bilbo could feel the deluge ready to pour down on their persons. He already knew that the rain was ready to pour, the clouds from above is as grey as the Wizard’s pockets and hat. No sun peaked from the white clouds he loved seeing in the Shire. Just grey clouds surrounding them with a humid vogue and the occasional drizzle.

Then he felt a raindrop splatter across his waistcoat. Then one after another, then another, then another, then it started to pour with vigor.

Bilbo heard the Dwarrow start to complain and Thorin saying something about the weather is against them, the hobbit rolled his un-amusement to his left and continued with his hands gripped onto the now wet reigns.

“Gandalf, could you do something about this deluge?”

That was probably Dori. The dwarf was always against nature that went against them, antithetical things those are; although, Bilbo did love things that was antagonistic. The dwarrows, now, were pulling their cloaks to shield them from the deluge that rain upon them like arrows—like those will work with sharp arrows that rained from above in a volley. Some of them even fell off their horse—pony--, no control when one does not hold their reigns together.

“It is raining, Master dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. Gandalf the great and mighty could not simply get rid of a simple little rain? What kind of wizard is he? Bilbo rolled his eyes and looked at his reigns. Then curiosity filled the hobbit, was there more wizards to come?

“Are there any?” Bilbo asked with a sniff.

“What?”

“Other wizards?”

“There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. And then there are the two Blue Wizards… You know, I’ve quite forgotten their names…”

Bilbo rolled his eyes once again, typical wizard.

“And the fifth?”

“Well, that would be Radagast the Brown.”

“Is he a great wizard, or is he more like you?” Bilbo snipped with amusement. Gandalf looked confronted and affronted all at once, with a huff of a pout and swish of his staff, he responded.

“Well, I think he is a very great wizard… in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals for others. He keeps watchful eyes on the forestlands to the East and a good thing too. For always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.” Gandalf explained. Bilbo glared at nothing--well, not preferably glaring more as staring with his eyes squinted. Bilbo nodded and inclined his head with another nod.

The rain didn’t seem to mind the impending darkness heading towards them.

~

“Master Thorin, I do not think that this spot is most preferred for a picnic.”

“Well, if you can’t seem to resent the feeling, then I suggest you head on to your hole.” Thorin retorted with an irritated twinge.

“And I would say the same—but no, you lost it to a red lizard with wings the size of your mountain.” Bilbo snipped and smacked it into the face of a rather red Dwarf King. The hobbit huffed; he is not going to get what he wants when he argues with this pompous dwarf king.

Thorin huffed in anger and left the scene.

“Oin, Gloin.” Thorin called out with his hands tightening its hold on the hilt of his blade. His blue eyes gleamed towards both the deaf and redheaded dwarf. The deaf one ears, ironically, picked up Thorin’s calling and looked at him immediately.

“Aye?”

“Get the fire going.”

“Right you are.” Oin agreed and walked with his brothers to collect broken sticks and stones, maybe some lumber, to put into the fire.

Bilbo rolled his eyes; he knew Thorin would still do whatever seems necessary or mindless stupidity. This was carnage. When they set foot into Eriador, they were bound to see something close to a tragedy. Like that little girl’s dead body, her mutilated body, underneath a flipped wagon with the horses’ guts spread all over the ruined vehicle. This was probably the outcome of it, the outcome as to why the wagon was there in the first place. Gandalf probably already have found out about this cause-and-effect ordeal and pieced it all together, if it was not that glint of fear in his eyes and pauses in his breath.

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley!” Bilbo’s ears perked when he heard Gandalf’s advice. Rivendell, were they going to Rivendell?

If the pompous dwarf will not listen to reason (or a simple witted phrase) then he sure would obey a wizard.

“But I’ve told you already. I will not go near that place.” Thorin complained with his obstinacy in place to set up camp in this mindless ruined farm.

“Why not? The Elves could help us; we could get food, rest, advice.” The wizard emphasized on advice, expecting the dwarf to follow his thought process. Which stopped immediately.

“I do not need their advice.”

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.” Gandalf snipped which only made the Dwarf king antagonistic.

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father.”

“You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past.” Gandalf was actually getting frustrated with the pompous dwarf—, which Gandalf agreed Thorin is pompous.

“I did not know they were yours to keep.”

Or not.

Gandalf has turned to walk off in frustration, probably to sulk on his own accord when he does not get his ways.

“Gandalf? Where are you going?” Bilbo asked with the lust to go with him. His hands gripped his backpack’s strap and looked at the strutting wizard. The wizard’s pointed hat brimmed on his eyebrows and his horse ready to take off, which the wizard soon mounted and started trotting towards the opposite direction they were going.

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.”

“And who’s that?” Already knowing who he is about to call out, but Bilbo loved hearing the wizard’s angry voice—only when it is not towards him.—which told him that he was not the only one pissing off a wizard.

“Myself, mister Baggins! I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.”

Then soon the wizard bolted across the pathway, dirt trailing behind him.

“Come on Bombur, we’re hungry.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

This was going to be a long night.

~

“Aye, Bilbo, laddie! Here. Do us a favor, take this to the lads.” Bofur handed the empty-handed hobbit a bowl of watery stew. Probably the rations they had reserved in Bilbo’s pillaged pantry, the nerve.

“They are princes and they are only watching the ponies, I am under the impression that the ponies would not go missing in a couple of minutes they would take to get the food.” Which did not work because the Dwarf gave a jovial smile and sent the hobbit on his merry way to the princes, a sigh of exasperation escaped the hobbit’s lips before scurrying across the dark forest to find the two bright princes.

Who he found standing with eyes wide open.

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo said once he entered their part of the forest. The princes’ eyes widened even more and jumped at the hobbit’s sudden entrance.

“B-Bilbo! What’re you doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be doffing off with your waistcoat or somethin…” Kili exclaimed with a fake smile spreading across his face. Bilbo rolled his eyes, he knew something was up; even Fili had the decency to smack his brother for his stupidity.

“Obviously when Kili rambles on and on, then something is up with the two of you. So I repeat, what’s the matter?” Bilbo asked once again with his eyes glowing in the dark. Fili mewled out a whimper before walking towards the hobbit, same goes for Kili.

“We’re supposed to be looking after the ponies—“

“Only we’ve encountered a slight problem—“

“A problem?”

“Yeah, we had sixteen—“

“Now there’s fourteen.”

Bilbo’s eye brow raised with confusion. “How did you lose the ponies?” Then he saw the tumbled tree.

“Daisy and Bungle are missing.” Kili added, Bilbo sighed with confusion smocked on his face. In the darkness, a light sprung with a tinted orange hue. Fili noticed it immediately and looked from Kili to the light source. Why was there fire?

“Then we should tell Thorin, although I suggest you have a cast of armor at all times.” Bilbo said with a wit.

“Uh…no. Let’s not worry him. As out official burglar, we thought you might look into it.” Fili emphasized on the hobbit with a glare thrown at him. Bilbo sighed; he was affronted and scared at the thought of something crawling in the forest, probably eating all of the ponies.

Who was to say that the ones eating a pony would not eat a hobbit-y witch?

“Look at the tree before judging whether or not I will be eaten. I’d rather not do something head-first, even though I probably would have my head severed before I even entered.” The hobbit snipped at the wincing Dwarrow Princes.

“Hey! There’s a light.” The older prince said with his gloved fingers pointing towards the light source he caught before. Kili smirked enthusiastically; Bilbo could not find his wits as to why the dwarf was so enthusiastic about all of this. Fili had begun to move towards a tall boulder, closer to the light source.

Bilbo caught, “Over here!” from a whispering blond dwarf. Finally, Kili started to move with his arrows notched within his bow. Bilbo gathered his wits before settling in with a twinge of magical energy surrounding him.

The trees began to bristle with every step the witch takes, closer to the impending nightmare. The archer took liberty to look ahead as to what was kidnapping the ponies, his eyes squinted in determination. Fili unsheathed his dual blades and kneeled down lower.

“What is it?”

“Trolls.”

~

The pair of idiots and hobbit moved to another boulder, closer to the Troll camp they stumbled upon, near the ponies’ stables. Kili’s arrows still notched on his bow with his head up high, Fili had his dual blades ready to draw blood, and Bilbo had his wits with his magic ready for release.

Then Bilbo noticed his pony.

“He’s got Myrtle and Minty!” Bilbo whispered pointing at his pony and the other.

“Then you should go and save them, Bilbo!” Kili replied to the frantic hobbit. The youngling gave a jovial smile, just like Bofur—whom Bilbo wants to castrate.--, and pushed the hobbit, edging him towards the _three_ trolls.

“It’s perfectly safe, do not fret!” Bilbo wants to smack him across the face with some witted up magic and relentless force. However, he could not do that and make them dislike him on this venture, so he kept it on the down low.

“Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you’re so small. They’ll never see you.” Kili said.

“Much like you lot,” Bilbo muttered, complaining that he was the one pushed in a troll’s den. The hobbit rolled his eyes before looking at a pursed lip blond prince.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Fili reassured with his hands etching for an embrace from the hobbit, “If you run into trouble hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl.”

“What?” Bilbo was confused but that did not stop them from pushing him across the big boulder they hid behind so well. Then he heard the bushes begin to bristle and footsteps pattering against the mud—or was it troll dung?—they passed by. With courage, Bilbo budged towards the pen they kept the ponies in, he was going to kill those two princes once he is done with this.

~

“Mutton yesterday, mutton today. And blimey, if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrow.” William complained, juxtapose slouched and concrete. He grabbed at the mug of grog.

“Quit your griping. These ain’t sheep! These is West nags!” Bert said—the cook, Bilbo presumed to be—while he stirred the disgusting smelling soup. One of the trolls began to look towards the stables that caused the hobbit to duck down immediately, cloaking himself with an invisibility spell. He muttered the spell in quick succession before he disappeared from sight in thin air; his footsteps left no prints behind him.

“Oh! I don’t like horse. I never have. Not enough fat on them.” The stupid one, probably, said with his intentions griping at the ponies. Bilbo muttered another spell, pulling the hands down slightly so the troll would not notice. Then he muttered about stone-sensed dwarrows.

The hobbit looked around the den area for something to distract the trolls. The soup was a disaster, but he could not flail with that just yet. The ponies kept mewling out cries.

Everything in nature was against him, oh the irony of being a witch.

Then he looked to the rudimentary structure they called a pen. The ropes looked tangled and loose, rushed it seemed, the noose sticking out in a lip, which could be pried open if he was a dwarf. However, who would want to be a dwarf? The hobbit sniffed in distaste before looking at the fire. Fire was a witch’s best friend, even more so if he could use it.

“Well, it’s better than a leathery ol’ farmer. All skin and bone he was. I’m still pickin bits of him out o’ me teeth.” The troll used a bone to pick skeletal parts from his elongated, morbid teeth. It was disgusting, with the gum tainted with solidary green slime and teeth yellow.

Trolls should really invest in a toothbrush; the hobbit could say the same for his dwarrow companions.

One of the trolls, Tom, sneezed into the stew. The hobbit grew sick when the trolls started to taste the stew like a petulant child tasting mud.

“Well, that’s lovely, that is. A floater.” Bilbo gagged in disgust.

“Oh! Might improve the flavor!” Maybe Bilbo would have gag reflexes; he has been gagging all night long.

“Ah! There’s more where that come from.” Tom grew wary of the offending ladle headed his way, but he still attempted to sneeze out snot from his hollowed nose. Then the sound of a ladle crashing down on a skull echoed through the forest, carried out by the trees.

“Oww! Oww!”

“Sit down!” Bert growled at the stupid troll, although… they all are practically stupid, but the Tom one is even more so.

“How come he’s the cook? Everything tastes the same, everythin tastes like chicken.” William complained.

“Except the chicken!”

“What tastes like fish!” The torpid trolls exclaimed with a scathing hand wandering for a grog.

“I’m just sayin’, a little appreciation would be nice. ‘Thank you very much, Bert.’ Lovely stew, Bert.’ How hard is that?” The Cook complained. Offered respect isn’t given from the likes of an idiotic bunch. Bilbo could say the same with his companions he ran out of his house for.

“Mmm. Just needs a sprinkle of squirrel dung.”

The voracious trolls turned to grab the dung that settled near their logged seats. Bilbo, once again, gagged in disgust. He hastily let his arms loose to grab the fire in a ball of erupted flames and hurdled it towards the stable—

Then a Dwarf, a particular young dwarf, jumped out of the forest with his sword unsheathed, readied to attack. And the fireball dropped and diminished in vapor.

“What have you done with him?”

That confounded idiotic dwarfling! He is going to have words with that dwarf, scathing, brutal, and whimsical witted words!

“Wit who?” Tom said.

“Is that a Dwarf?”

“What have you done with our hobbit?” The Dwarfling snarled his eyes wide with resonant hate.

“What’s he talkin’ ‘bout?”

“No Idea.”

“Can we eat him?”

The hobbit’s anger got the best of him. Why had the dwarfling not stay in cover? Did he not want him to shove off, showing to them that he is a burglar? No, he is to come into the same area as he and had the audacity to ready attack the trolls. Idiotic bunch, indeed. Bilbo gathered his wits and sniffed, a storm brewed within every inch the hobbit takes. The price was taxing, the magic within him surged in the air, mixing itself with the clouds—turning them grey and ready for another deluge.

The trees started wavering with the night, dancing in the moonlight as the fire edges closer to the Trolls. The ropes from the rudimentary stable severed into pieces and the ponies escaped, but the Trolls quickly tried to gripe one.

Then a company of dwarrows showed up—whose armor was greatly reduced—and attacked the Trolls. Stabbing, slashing, bashing against the Troll’s stone hide. It was not enough; the dwarrows were just play toys to the Trolls. Their hands scathing with callouses the size of a tree bark and slammed some of the dwarrow, but luckily, they dodged hastily before they turn themselves into Dwarf mush. The three Trolls roared that made Bilbo raised his hands to cup his ear, to muffle the vicious roar from the Trolls. He edged the fire closer to Tom with an agile hand, sending the trail of fire to catch the Troll’s trousers into heaps of flames. The agglomerated fire soon set the Troll aflame, sending the creature into a frenzy and fretted that affected the other trolls as well.

Tom flailed his arms around, trying to extinguish or expunge the flame from his person, but failed miserably as he hit his fellow Trolls. Bilbo eyes widened as Tom’s hands almost smote him with only a few inches to spare. He sighed in relief and raised his hands to excavate the Troll to the ground, forcing him with invisible chains of magic. His stability was wobbly; magic started dissipating within every movement the Troll released. It was a taxing spell, especially when it is trying to hold such a big creature. Blood dripped down the hobbit’s nose and the invisible cloak disappeared.

He looked at the nearest rock, a stone big enough to smash a Troll’s head. It was another taxing thing to lift, his magic stability wobbled within every movement, even his hands shook as if it was carrying a heavy object—which in reality, it was. His vision began to blur; he should not have stayed in that invisible façade for a prolong time. He tried to altercate the troll from its captivity with augments, muttering untranslatable words and a mix of Quenya, the blood continued to trail down the hobbit’s nose. The Troll continued to flail about, trying to break free from his invisible captivity, while the other Troll’s continue their battle with the Company.

Kili came towards Bilbo, finally founding the hobbit. He smiled but it immediately morphed into a frown when he caught sight of him holding down the Troll with his hands not even touching a single hide, and the blood trailing down his nose. He ran towards his favorite—his only—hobbit and rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Stop, Bilbo!” Kili demanded of the hobbit to start, but it fell on deaf ears as the hobbit continued to do what he was doing. The ascendant hobbit sent a wave of telekinetic, striking the troll true, his arms thrusts to ensure the troll down. “Bilbo! Please, stop!” Finally, the boulder elevated over the head of the Troll and Kili’s eyes widened, how in Arda did he do that? The blood stained the dirt beneath them and fell in a pit of dust when Bilbo finally released the boulder from his grasp, smashing the Troll’s head.

Tom’s head split into two, his eyes oozing out of his sockets. Black, tar blood oozed out, catching the other Troll’s attention. Bert and William’s eyes widened within seconds when they caught sight of their dead companion, and then they landed on Bilbo—whose blood was still pouring out of his. Kili bustled closer to the hobbit and raised his sword. The brittle hobbit fell to the ground; exhausted sighs escaped his lips before the darkness took him.

At least he killed a troll before he fell to the ground. Warm arms embracing him possessively and protectively and the dwarrow all screamed their battle cries once more.

“Bag’em, Bag’em up, now!”

Was the last thing he heard from the trolls.

~

Light began to spring through the darkness Bilbo was bind in, the concrete block he calls a head raised, and his eyes droopy from exhaustion. His magic felt weary inside of him. The congenial hobbit looked at the conflagration where the Dwarrows started taunting something.

Then he found himself in a sack.

He looked everywhere in confusion. His eyes landed on the spit-roast and stone-sensed idiots that bind themselves to it. Bilbo conjectured that they have been captured, that would explain the amount of dwarrows he was put upon. Half of the company congregated under him while the other half was being spit-roasted.

His magic flickered, suggesting that it was their still with him. The hobbit sighed in relief and eyes landed on the bristling tree on top of the curved boulder in front of him. The Trolls—the hobbit noticed—twisted the knob of the spit-roast slowly. Slowly cooking them and…incinerating them… the hobbit’s eyes shuddered in fear. Bilbo sighed and looked at Kili, who was lying right next to him.

The youngling noticed and smiled. Bilbo’s wits wondered how this Dwarf ever becomes so enthusiastic especially when they have trolls on their asses! Kili inched closer to his favorite hobbit and coddled onto his shoulder, nuzzling the hobbit.

“Bilbo! You are awake!” Kili said merrily.

“I certainly am.” Bilbo still had words for the youngling that put his life on the line just for this hobbit. He was a prince for Yavanna’s sake! He should think more of his life than his! “Foolish thing you have done. Going after me as if I was a petulant child that can’t defend himself,” the hobbit bit at Kili with words.

The dwarfling had a culpable smile and eyes bright, Bilbo rolled his tired eyes—well, tried to.—and watched the other dwarrow being cooked. The Troll’s were cull; they had Dwalin hanging under Bofur’s butt. It was quite funny, but Bilbo had to do something to release his companions.

“Excuse me!” Bilbo exclaimed, shrugging the youngling off his shoulder. It caught the attention of the Trolls and the hobbit’s eyes landed on the dead troll that laid still with a boulder over his head.

“You ‘ere the one that killed Tom!” Bert exclaimed, “We should’ve cooked you instead!”

“There is a way to cook dwarves and hobbits without having to worry about anything!” Bilbo said, surprisingly convincing. Bert wondered and sniffed in thought.

“What kind of way?”

“Well, you do not want to eat stone-sensed idiots, now do you?” Bilbo said, “Then I ought to skin them before roasting them, then they will be nice and plucked.”

“Bert, get me filleting knife.”

It was funny, the dwarrow started muttering something about hobbit’s and their traitorous ways.

“Did ‘e just say to skin us?” Nori squeaks out. Glancing down to his feet, Fili tried to inch closer to bite at his ankle only to have himself face planted on the floor by a foot of a hobbit.

“I’ll skin you, you little bastard!” Gloin yells in spite of Bilbo being helpful. Dense and stone-sensed these lots were.

“I won’t forget that, Bilbo. I won’t forget it!” Snarls Dwalin with attempts to point at him in his binds, Bilbo smiled in spite of him.

“What a load of rubbish!” William snaps, redirecting Bilbo’s attention back to the trolls. “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scoff’em, I say, boots and all.”

The illuminating ray of light shined through crevices of the boulders and openings of the very tall bushes. Bilbo’s eyes caught a flash of gray with a staff pattering against the boulder. It was Gandalf!

“He’s right!” Bert agreed, “And why should we trust you? You killed Tom!”

William grabbed at Bombur, the poor rotund dwarf was about to be chomped on by a bigger creature. Bilbo’s eyes widened and froze William. Magic streamed from his hands and forced the bigger creature to let the dwarf down!

“Not him!” Bilbo disagrees, “Not him, he has… he has worms in him! Size of an oliphaunt, he is. In fact, all of them have worms in their intestines and parasites on their liver. Nasty business, I say.”

“Huh?”

“You what?

“He’s got worms in his tubes.”

“Ew” William gasped before finally being released from a sudden hold and released the dwarf, hastily. Then Bombur landed on both Kili and Oin, who groaned in pain.

“As I said, Parasites on their livers and oliphaunt sized worms in their tubes. Nasty business these lots are.”

“Parasites?” Bilbo hears Oin ask. “Did he say ‘parasites’?”

“Yes he said—No! We don’t have parasites! You have parasites!” Kili snaps at his back. Bilbo rolled his eyes and huffed exasperatedly.

“What are ye talkin’ about laddie?”

They continue on and on with Bilbo’s magic fluttering in him, humming for release. He was thinking on a spell to turn them all to stone, then the quest would fail and the mountain would remain in a Greedy Dragon’s possession. Then the Majestic Sod finally caught on and kicked his nephew in the back. Oin and Kili looked from Thorin to Bilbo in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!” Oin exclaims.

“Mine are biggest parasites! I’ve got huge parasites!” Kili cries out.

Bilbo turns back to the trolls with trepidation etched in his eyes. He head them grunt and growl. These dumb bastards, obviously never dealt with anything of the outside world.

“We’re riddled!”

“Yes, I’m riddled.” Ori chimes in as well.

“Yes we are, badly.” Dori tacks on.

The Cook lets go of the spit and steps towards him.

“What would you have us do, then? Let ‘em all go?”

“I was giving you information on whether or not you are going to cook them. The valiant efforts of sage and rosemary would saturate and expunge the viruses, but it will still cause you imminent poisoning. I was merely warning you.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” Well, Bilbo was hoping. Trolls were half-wits anyways. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?” Bilbo exclaimed affronted by the information he received from the angry trolls. Did they not see their dead friend over there? _He_ was the one who killed him.

“Fools?” Bert asks.

Gandalf finally made his entrance known. The sun made the wizard’s robes shine like mithril.

“The dawn will take you all!”

Gandalf strikes his staff down on the stone upon which he stands, stepping aside hastily as it splits open, the blinding light of the morning sun shining through on the remaining trolls. The moment the light laid it’s hands on the Trolls, their skins begin to harden, crumbling to dust which each movement. The Trolls shrieked and roared and the dead one laid still, the skin was hardening as well. The process wasn’t quick, but when it was done, they are frozen in stone. Maybe turning the Trolls to stone was not an option but fate.

“Oh! Get yer foot out of ma back!” Dwalin snaps at his Dwarrows upon the spit.

Bilbo shrugged off his poorly tied sack and sighed in relief as Gandalf scurried towards him. Confidant that Gandalf would kill the fire as he walks, Bilbo looked at the stone crushed Troll. The wizard also caught sight of it and looked at Bilbo with adoration. Bilbo sheepishly smiled but looked at the dwarrow still trapped in their sacks.

“One would think that dwarrows could upheld a revel mountain of sacrament and escape prejudice from lands afar, but it would take a sac to keep them in place.” Bilbo drawls.

“Bilbo…” Kili whines, looking up at him.

“Please Mister Bilbo!” Bombur said, the kindred soul, the humble man really hated the captivity of a sack. Bilbo sighed and softened his gaze, walking towards the rotund dwarf now.

“I would not lower myself in asking someone who led us into danger!”

That pompous dwarf. Bilbo was tired, he was hungry, and he was exhausted from magic withdraw. He was just _done_ after this Troll-catastrophe!

“And one would think that if you had listen to Gandalf and I in the first place than you wouldn’t have to pick on trolls, oh King under the dragon hoarded mountain!” he says with magic in his voice, upholding it until it practically roars, venom—so much venom—was laced within that sent shivers down the dwarrows back. Gandalf puffed merrily on his pipe as he watches the dwarrow struggling within their sacks. Bilbo walked towards Bombur with a dagger he snagged from Kili, and cut loose the ropes.

Kili looked at Bilbo with eyes wide, “Me too, Bilbo…”

“You are very lucky I like you, Kili. Though, I have words to pick with you on later travels. _You foolish dwarfling._ ” Bilbo muttered the last part before the stolen dagger sang with the wind as it cut loose the ropes of the sack. Kili nodded before, not noticing his missing dagger, went to cut his brother loose.

It did not take almost half an hour to get the dwarrows loose from their sacks, even the Dwarrow King was somewhat grateful after that spiting match. Bilbo sharpened his wits even further when Gandalf said that there was a cave if the Trolls came down from the Ettenmoors. Thorin decided that they were to press on to the cave for looting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'know the ordeal!


	7. The Hunt Begins I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are unexpected times indeed. One may ask if there is any light to be ridden this darkness. Their is only a flicker left.
> 
> Now there is only blood drawn from the severed bonds of which a hobbit is entitled in, a contract that deemed to no availed protection. A king with no mountain, hunted by a vicious orc that is unknown to the king himself.
> 
> The blood lust is ever growing in the midst of this impending darkness. 
> 
> Thus, the hunt begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... do not kill me. I know, I am in so much deepshit right now, but hey... I'm back! 
> 
> I am so sorry, I had to deal with high school and AP work and it is just hectic that I almost had thoughts of just... throwing up. My teacher literally said, "Before you literally puke out projectile vomit..."   
> (Little attempt at ANGST or whatever abomination I created with the lack of play on words I did there. Sorry. Am studying but still dying. Yeah.)
> 
> But hey, I am back with a little surprise at the end!
> 
> Still slaughter Grammar, tbh, I do not think any studying will mend it. :P

> _Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness" --Mark Twain_

Troll Caves, why did they wander into a troll cave?

The daft wizard with a company of dwarrows and a witchy hobbit, left for looting. Where that looting took place is where the witchy hobbit puked, inwardly. It was not per say a subtle benign place. The cavern smelt of dung and other intoxicating things. There was flies flying across the cave in a zigzag motion with a habit to cling themselves onto the manure that laid, spread across the cavern floor. The hobbit wished he had brought his scented candles with him; it might do a little mending to the intoxicating fragrance in this cavern.

“If only I had brought a copious amount of scented herbs, it might mend this intoxicating odor.” Bilbo hastily snatched his travelling pack and sniffed his raggedy handkerchief to mend the smell; it was not helping at all. He turned towards the old codger that was jovial enough to chuckle at his distress, expecting a wise word to escape that wizened tongue of his.

Which it did, “Scented herbs may or may not be wise Bilbo, and it may attract unwanted critters to the light.” The wizard said with his merriment spreading vastly across his face. “If it can help, there is a patch of fresh air outside of this hole. You may find it wise to seek it.”

“I wonder how a wizard, such as yourself, can handle the intoxicating odor emitting from this-this piece of dung.” Bilbo pointed out the dung that laid peacefully next to him.

“If you ventured all of Middle-Earth, you would feel accustomed to these predicaments.” Gandalf tipped his hat and carried on, ignoring the hobbit’s eye roll.

Most of the dwarrows carried on with searching through chests filled with various doilies and jewels, some even stayed behind, not able to handle the stench. The hobbit poked around a few hordes of treasure, his hands clenching onto his nose with his rag pressed up against it. Gandalf poked around at a few weapons the Trolls attributed in their journey down from the Ettenmoors, his eyes fixated on one.

He picked it up with reluctance in his eyes. His fingers trailed against the sword’s scabbard, revealing the runes that vaguely shown within the poor lighting of the cave. The Wizard’s eyes grew ever curiously at the runes, as he could not read them; it was very arduous to the likes of the Wizard’s knowledge, it seemed not always can a wizard read the words of old. Gandalf grew very piqued with curiosity that he sheathed the blade within the ivory sheath and hooked it to his waist belt. Tentatively, he looked over to the Dwarrow King whose eyes never left a sword that he drew out.

Thorin Oakenshield has never seen a sword as brandished as this. The steel was incredible, cool to the touch, and sharp along the edges. It had a jeweled hilt that danced within the lighting of the cave; it glinted within the Dwarf’s eyes with fixation of intrigue. The blade itself grew out in arm’s reach, curving to a point and straightening out. The sword was beautiful, but the dwarf was assure that a troll had not made this blade.

“No troll made this blade,” Thorin said with a rumbling baritone note that hummed within the cave. His hands trailed along the blade’s scabbard, trailing towards the encrypted runes along the front. The dwarf knew—no matter how daft he can be—that no half-wits, such as the trolls, can ever make a fine blade such as this.

“Nor any man, this sword was made by the High Elves of Gondolin,” Gandalf said. Thorin attempted to throw down the sword, immediately. He did not like it anyways. However, Gandalf had caught his hands before his action ever took place. “You can never ask for a finer blade!” The wizard’s voice boomed within the cave, all the dwarrow looked at the scene before turning back to their treasure. Bilbo looked at the wizard and then the king, rolling his eyes. He shook his head, mind as well save his two sense while he still has it.

At the entrance (and exit) of the cave, Dwalin’s eyes scanned the interior of it that made him look like a bear ready for the hunt. His eyes caught his hobbit friend and he had a smile adorning his face, although he still felt affronted from that loosely ordeal with the buggering trolls. He still remembered what that hobbit said to them all,

_“Dwalin, if you so kindly and put your glare away I wouldn’t be tempted in gouging out your eyes.” Bilbo tutted with incredulity at the piercing glare from the burly dwarf; someone was upset with the whole predicament with the trolls._

_“If you hadn’ ‘ave flung us out as Troll bait, then maybe I would’ve forgiven you earlier.” Dwalin spat out. The hobbit did not feel any pity for the dwarf, the eye roll tells it all._

_“I don’t hold any pity in my actions, nor would any sentimental apologetic expressions ail any of you.” Bilbo said. He brought his hands up to wrap his thin fingers around his backpack strap. “It was a simple plan and stroke of action, what would you have done? Simply knock down the spit in front of them; I would not doubt that you lot hasten your death request. Now that you are not in a sack then I have done my part.”_

_“You could’ve-“_

_“Could’ve what? Not do anything for any of you? Well, I would not be away from my lovely smial if it were not for the pity party you had at the said hole in the ground. There would not be any gallivanting towards a desolate mountain that has a red lizard running among a hoard of gold or doing who knows in there; and simply, I would not have to deal with those stupid trolls!”_

_Bilbo’s words stung the company with venom filled with anger. The hobbit was upset and affronted with the degrading words of his only friend within the company; it stung even more when that said friend looked down sheepishly, worrying of losing his friend. Bilbo was his own source of comfort, the only person he could talk to without having the judgmental eyes of his fellow kin upon him. He knew the hobbit only wanted to help, and helped he did. Dwalin was just too blind with his affronted pride that he forgot how to have sentimental value, and any shape of manners with his one true friend. So, he did what Kili and Fili tried to do, walk up towards him._

_Dwalin placed a hand on a much-tensed shoulder. The burdens they laid upon the hobbit. It was ridiculous to send a creature of peace within a confined kingdom that had a dragon laying in the midst of it, or, “A red lizard that is fornicating all over the gold in that kingdom at this very second.” His friend is and still is very humorous when it comes to his words, a million arrows indeed._

_Before Dwalin said anything, Bilbo sighed exasperatedly. “You know, the thought of having dwarrows as a company never really gave a stroke of luck. Trolls coming down and orcs showing up with that roar across Esgaroth, it seems utterly ridiculous to stay with any of you.” Once again, the hobbit’s words stung and kept stinging in Dwalin’s stone heart. “But, it seems it gave me merriment: To stress your dwarrow pride with a fruitful comment from my mouth, horrible jokes with guttural nonsense, and you.” Bilbo turned to Dwalin, his hands grabbing Dwalin’s callused ones. “The only one, aside from Fili, Kili, and Ori, which had the audacity in talking to me and laughing at my expense at every turn, the only one with common sense, aside from our greetings, and the only one that spoke true to your heart.” Bilbo smiled, actually smiled, it seemed to have brighten Dwalin’s vision with a small pique of light. “That is all a hobbit could ever want, a true friend.”_

_“And, it seems you have given me one: you.” Dwalin’s eyes crossed him, betrayed him. Water seeped within his peripheral view, shimmering with the light. His lips were quivering and his hands were shaking, slightly. The dwarf was about to cry._

_“Aye, ‘nd y-you, my friend,” Dwalin leaned in closer towards Bilbo, edging him in a hug. The dwarf snuggled within the nape of the hobbit’s soft neck. Bilbo patted Dwalin’s back, comforting him and to adhere to the dwarf’s sadness._

Dwalin still could not believe that Bilbo made him cry. However, he did know that even Bilbo’s friendship surpasses even his loyalty towards his king. Dwalin would still protect Thorin’s hairy arse, but he would also protect Bilbo’s (pearly white, Dwalin believes) and the Company’s with everything he got.

His two axes would not mind chopping several heads for them.

Afterwards, Dwalin’s eyes found Gloin: who was digging up a hole with both Nori and Bofur.

“What in Mahal are you lot doin’?” Dwalin asked. Gloin looked up; a splotch of dirt stained his face.

“Nothin’, just makin’ a long term deposit. Never too much gold if you ask a banker.” Gloin pointedly sneered at Bofur, who took the shovel and started to dig with vigor.

“Do it faster, think we leavin’ soon enough.” Dwalin’s eyes found his king, who was flushed with anger. It seemed the wizard ticked him off this time as the said grey splotch raised his staff.

“Aye,” Gloin waved off the brute to get back to what he was previously doing: digging a bigger hole for the darn treasure.

Soon enough, Thorin called out to leave the cave with a new sword hooked against his waist. Nori, Bofur, and Gloin hurried in desperate attempts to hasten their digging for their ‘long term’ deposit. Dwalin rolled his eyes at the three while exiting the cave.

“So, how was this troll dunged expedition?” Bilbo queried. “There was dung over yonder, you know. Nothing but dung was what I saw, no worthwhile china if I do say so myself.”

“It seems no matter how long you have been away from your home; you still want the simple things.” Gandalf said.

“Indeed, I may be a changed hobbit, but I am not terribly change to not want the simple things.” Bilbo stated. “I would not quell with changes, terrible mishaps.”

Gandalf chuckled merrily at his hobbit friend, “Indeed it will.”

“But, I did find something worthwhile for you, my friend.” Gandalf reached for his silver scarfed pocket, revealing a dagger fit for a hobbit.

“Brandished steel… whatever will I need it for, Gandalf?” The hobbit queried. It was a beautiful blade; although with the littlest of knowledge that hobbits held with artisanship such as this is something that dwarrows may narrow their eyes at, it was pitiful.

The wizard smiled at his dear friend with meddling glinting in his eyes, “The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby.” The wizard looked down at his friend, “It will come in handy if your magic dissipates in the wrong area at the wrong time.”

“It is rather useless to me if I do use magic, but I will keep the thought.” Bilbo held up the sword to the clouded sun, peaking some light that made the dagger shine. “I do remember my mother showing me the art of using the sword before. Remember the wooden toy I kept pelting you with? Rather amusing beating up a wizard as if he was a bag filled with candy.”

“Indeed I do remember. The night of the Old Took’s birthday, a young Bilbo Baggins came up to a wizard dressed all in grey and started pelting him with various strikes with a wooden sword.” Gandalf recited the memory with a merrily smile. “Something I shall not forget.” The smile that adorned the wizard’s face morphed into a serious frown. “Bilbo, with the sword I have given you and your magic, you must heed this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.”

Bilbo nodded, “But one must have courage to die than to live.” The hobbit quoted his mother’s last words that made Gandalf’s smile return on his face.

“Indeed one does,” Gandalf patted his friend once more before he went poking at the Company.

When the Company finally went past the troll cave away from the proximity of the intoxicating odor, they heard the bush rustle.

Thorin immediately un-sheathed his new sword, whipping it out with a fast motion from the scabbard hooked to his hip. His stance gratified assurance to the Company, whom whipped out their weapons. Furthermore, the Company surrounded the most vulnerable, Bilbo. With a roll of his eyes, Bilbo flailed his hands and huffed.

“Something’s coming!” Bilbo rolled his eyes once again, takes a Dwarrow King to state the obvious.

“Stay together!” Gandalf turned up with his staff glinting and his sword un-sheathed.

As the dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo wait to see the enemy to jump out at them, a burst of brown jumped out from the bush with a wood embroidered sled with rabbits pulling it.

“What in—“ Bilbo was interrupted by the brown’s words filling the air.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” The brown splotch accused.

Gandalf’s eyes rolled but a smile subsided the reflective sarcasm he was about to lash out, “Radagast. It is just Radagast the brown.”

Bilbo looked at the brown splotch—wizard, Bilbo reminded—with a curious quirk of a brow. He did not seem like a wizard. The wizard had a lot of brown; did the Maiar come with a color key? However, Bilbo found the wizard’s staff poking out from the wizard’s back. It was rather obvious but Bilbo had not noticed.

Gandalf walked towards the brown wizard with an appalled look on his face. “What on earth on you doing here? What has happened to the Greenwood for you have left it under no protection?”

“I was looking for you, Gandalf! Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” Radagast complained. He innocently played with his finger as he tried to weave a story in his head.

“Yes?” Gandalf queried with a quirk of his brimmed grey brow.

“Just give me a minute. Um…Oh! I had a thought and now I’ve lost it. It was… it was… was right there, on the tip of my tongue you see! Oh!” Radagast opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue to reveal a stick bug. “It’s not a thought at all! It’s a silly old… stick insect!”

Bilbo gagged immediately.

 

“That was disgusting,” Bilbo murmured.

“I suppose, but it ain’t got anythin’ near that troll dunged hoard over there.” Dwalin said, Grasper and Keeper still in his hands.

“Indeed, but what is merely disgusting is disgusting, but when it comes to creatures housing in your mouth, well… it would seem he surpasses even the dirtiest of creatures.”

“Aye! What does that make of us, huh?” Dwalin grew appalled as all the words flooded in his ear. Bilbo chuckled merrily as he turned towards his brutish friend.

“The brown wizard surpasses even the dirtiest of creatures.” Bilbo repeated while his eyes scanned the dwarf.

“You little-“ Dwalin was going to strangle the small creature! Strangle him and hang him loosely on his hip, he was to do.

“Restrain from ever hurting our dear hobbit, Master Dwalin.” Kili admonished with a wagging finger. Fili followed with the same finger wagging to the brute of a dwarf. Dwalin gave a sigh of vexation before sheathing Grasper and Keeper respectably on his back.

“I am not about to be admonished by wee dwarflings, ye see.” Dwalin imperiously said with sass. Bilbo was proud.

“Yet being told by a brute is ever fruitful,” Bilbo chuckled. Dwalin bumped his friend with a fist offending the arms of an unaware hobbit, knocking him down. The dwarf began to laugh while the hobbit rolled his eyes, rubbing at his shoulders. It was going to bruise on the morrow.

 

Fili and Kili noticed the sword buckled against the hobbit’s hips.

Dwalin noticed the sword buckled against the hobbit’s hips.

Bilbo forgot the sword existed.

“What even is that?” Fili’s eyes narrowed to look at the design of the sword. It was a bit tiny for his tastes. The curved hilt emphasizes the curving blade laced with ruins, unreadable ruins, probably elven make. His face turned into a scoff before replacing it with a smile, an idea smote his mind. “Is that a sword?”

“It may look like a dagger to you lot, but it is sharp so I consider it a sword.” Bilbo said.

“Aye, looks like a wee letter opener.” Dwalin’s eyes filled with merriment before shaking his head in a fit of laughter. Kili joined soon enough, falling down to the floor. Fili’s eyes never left Bilbo’s, the said hobbit was scared that it might pop out with that much determination laced within those irises. So, the hobbit did what he would usually do: snip at Dwalin.

“Sharper than your dirty wit,” The hobbit snipped back at the burly dwarf, earning a discerned glare and merriment.

“Aye!” Dwalin exclaimed.

Fili and Kili looked ripe to burst

“Anyways, since Fili had a look of determination in his eyes… what would you like to ask me?” Bilbo asked with askance. He regretted asking that, Fili almost burst in excitement.

“Can I teach you how to use a sword?”

“Exclude your boots from my feet, please.” Bilbo said. Once the dwarf finally noticed that he made the mistake in settling his boots onto the hobbit’s feet, he moved slightly aback before looking at his favorite hobbit. “Why ever do you think that I have no capability in using a sword?”

“Because that is hardly a sword,” Dwalin muttered earning a glare from a hobbit with sharp hearing.

“Well, hobbits do not usually use weapons, am I correct?” Fili asked with his hands fumbling with the braids in his beard. Bilbo nodded, “Then, there is a slight chance that you might get eaten by something that we are not capable to defeat. So, teaching you how to use it will help broaden your knowledge to an extent that you can defeat said creature.”

Bilbo looked at Fili with shock. Did that question and that interpreted analysis come out of Fili’s mouth? The exact dwarfling that offended his blueberry muffins fresh from the stove, or the myriad of steak stuffed in his mouth.

“Looks like you had an epiphany of ideas in that stone of yours,” Bilbo emphasized on Fili’s brain. “I would gladly accept your ‘help’ to broaden my intellect on swordsmanship, as long as you can handle the extent of a useless hobbit such as I.”

“There is no rusty warrior, there is a lanky. But the lanky may turn into the greatest warrior of all.” Kili quoted, which shocked Bilbo even more so than Fili. What is with these boys today? Did the trolls knock them silly over their stoned heads?

“That may be true, but we hobbits are creatures of peace.”

“Didn’t seem peaceful when I’ve seen you smash that troll’s head,” Kili snipped at Bilbo.

Bilbo’s eyes had widened at the standalone fragment. What had he mean? Though Bilbo’s mind was a bit foggy, the whole predicament with the trolls was because he caved a troll’s head in with a mammoth boulder he had to pick up with his magic. Had Kili seen him do that?

Even Dwalin and Fili looked shocked, looking from Kili to Bilbo not believing in what came out of Kili’s mouth.

“Truly? You were the one that killed that troll near their den?” Fili questioned, ignorant to what they were discussing not too long ago.

“’ow did you do such a thing like that?” Dwalin asked with suspicion in his eyes.

“Nothing, it was nothing—“ Bilbo was going to lie, but the dwarfling with brown hair considered it was time to come out with the truth; which annoyed Bilbo to an extent.

“The hobbit can lift boulders without lifting a finger!” Kili exclaimed with a jovial tone. “He floated it over the troll’s stone head and smashed it, ironically fitting the image.”

The two dwarfs looked ready to laugh, but they stopped when they have seen the seriousness in Kili’s eyes creating a façade to his merriment attitude. It was time like these that are rather unexpected.

“I haven’t the foggiest of clues you are abiding, brother.” Fili looked at Kili with something close to admiration fitting, but it was not the time to analyze while there is a potential interrogation going on with a suspicious hobbit as the suspect.

“Bilbo smashed the troll with a boulder, how did you not see that boulder back their? Our hobbit had the gall to smash it with a boulder while it was trying to sit up like a turtle on its shell!”

“Maybe it was Gandalf. You have seen him when he appeared out of the bushes, pushing those boulders to the side with his stick of justice.” Fili retorted. He could not believe that his brother would fib, especially at times like these.

“Yeah! How does our lanky hobbit lift such an object, with no hands no less!” Dwalin exclaimed with the foggiest of jealousy, probably imagining the hobbit stronger than any creature on Middle Earth.

The argument took its toll. It went lashing back and forth, against one another’s claims. It was rather frustrating in the eyes of the hobbit. It wasn’t until Kili looked right to cry, Fili looking betrayed, and Dwalin looked ready to kill, had the hobbit decided to conjure to escape this fray.

“ _Enough!_ ” Bilbo had power in his voice. It boomed to even the outer realms of their conversation, ringing in the ears of the Company. “Whether or not Kili fibbed, it will be up to you to find out the truth rather than arguing like a bunch of miscreants.”

All three of the miscreants huffed at the comment of being a miscreant, but they stopped lashing tongue at each other. Thanks to Bilbo, the argument ceased but Dwalin still had his suspicions. Therefore, he went to pick up the hobbit and buckled him against his hip, much to Bilbo’s distaste of his feet not touching the ground. The dwarf went off to a distant part of the little patch of forest they were in, settling himself on the ground next to Bilbo, arms letting loose of the hobbit.

The hobbit looked menacing; luckily, he let him loose without his arms severed off. Dwalin gave him a smirk, but sat down no less. Bilbo huffed incredulity and whispered a soft curse to the lack of stone-brained dwarves, sitting down while doing so.

The two other miscreants walked towards them to join the conversation, much to Bilbo’s annoyance-tolerance.

“Bilbo, tell them! I’ve seen you caving the troll’s head in with… what seemed like magic!” Kili said, eyes begging for the truth to come out of the hobbit’s mouth.

The hobbit tried to say something snarky, but the brute beat him to it.

“Did you?” Dwalin asked with a calming tone. It was relaxing but the apprehension building up in the discerned remorse is quite worrying. The words shocked Bilbo, but it let him at ease no less.

What is the use lying to these three? These three only showed him the kind of friendship Bilbo had never experienced. The two brothers differentiated from the group, always complaining that Thorin disapproved of them, but Bilbo can give a rat’s ass on what Thorin has to say on his opinion of the boys. Fili and Kili never let pride go over loyalty, prying into troublesome antics maybe the case, but they never let the hobbit ever go without food or proper conversation with some guttural nonsense. Dwalin, the only true friend he made on this adventure aside from the boys, will never let the hobbit go unless he is prepared. Comes with the possessiveness of Dwarrows over their new friends, something he has to take note.

It was when Bilbo went to open his mouth, a growl rustled through the fauna that surrounded them.

Bilbo’s magic raged within his body. His eyes began to take on a new color, yellow hue with a tint of orange glowing within the sunlight. Those exact eyes scanned the bushes with ease, hinting the life form threatening them. He halted; his eyes scanned a large party up on top the mountain hill.

The outline looked like a wolf. It scared Bilbo to an extent.

With a shuddered, cut-up sigh, Bilbo looked up at the Dwarrows that were currently surrounding him, shielding him from whatever there is to come.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo had asked with a hint of fear.

All he could remember was the Fell-Winter.

“No, its more guttural than a wolf, brash, nimble movements.” Gandalf took a moment with eyes widening, realization hit him hard, “It’s a warg!”

The Wizard took glaring look at the leader of the Company, “Who did you tell far over your kin?” Gandalf asked with a sneer.

“No one, I swear of it.” Thorin said with fear laced within.

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf did not get the answer he needed; his frustration grew the day weary.

“No one! What is going on?” The Dwarrow King looked at his Company then back at the wizard.

“You are being hunted.” Gandalf simply said.

“I can draw them off,” The brown wizard said, a smile upon his face. If Bilbo had anything to say about it, it looked like a meddling affair was something all wizards has a knack for, especially dull-colored wizard.

Gandalf gave a disheveled sigh, “They will surely outrun you.” The wizard had some logic, but the other did not seem to care.

“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits.” Radagast gave a cheeky smirk, “I’d like to see them try.” With that, he was off.

The Rabbits took the wizard across the Hills, creating a trail of orc hunters following him. Gandalf took the opportunity to take swift movements, he lifted his staff, and with a booming voice, he said:

“RUN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I just did that. Deal with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism is most appreciated, and comments are most fruitful! 
> 
> Suggestions are accepted and considerate and flames are just plain abominations. .


End file.
